Back To Barak
by RocketBooster
Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Back To Barak, Chapter One

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was writtenfor personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.

Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and while not overly graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

This is a shout-out to all my new friends at the Yahoo Group: TheOverThereFanFictionSquad

* * *

He strode quickly from his tent and headed across the compound, his anger fueling him and giving him momentum. He needed to put some space between himself and everything else until he could regain his composure and he ignored several greetings as he propelled himself forward. When he had gone a good two hundred paces, and was at the far side of the base he stopped and turned around, hands on hips, bending forward at the waist and breathing heavily. Goddamn but it was hot already! He unbuttoned his B.D.U jacket and coughed on the dusty air several times before he could breathe in deeply.

A lieutenant in the United States Army? Like _they_'ve never made a mistake? The man was a liability! The man couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag with a pair of _scissors_, and here he was embarking on a suicide mission just to make himself look good and taking his platoon along with him!

Yeah, he'd be right along with them alright; either fucking things up or until the shit hit the fan; then he'd manage to pull a _groin_ muscle and wind up calling the shots from _behind_ cover!

Power hungry, half-witted, egoistical, incompetent-

"Fearless in battle, my ass! " Silas yelled.

* * *

The darkness gave way to grey and the grey eventually faded to include blue. Gentle streaks of red, orange, and yellow stretched like fingers across the sky as the sun began to rise over the mountainous terrain and finally became the bright blue of morning. By then the base camp was buzzing with activity.

Sgt. Malatucci, a tall dark haired man of approximately Silas's age and sporting fierce sunburn, met up with him as he was heading toward the mess hall. "Hey, Chris! Underpants was just looking for you." He said with a wry look on his face, falling in step along Silas.

Silas stopped short and grumbled a brief "Great! Just what I goddamn needed before breakfast."

"Hey." Malucci responded. "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, pal." He paused for a beat, and then said, "I heard you had a chat a couple days ago with 'The Duke' about Underpants. Any good news?"

"Nope. Same old shit. He's in charge, goddamn it"

"Hmphf! You mean God _help_ us, we're already damned! I'd even take Mad Cow back! "

"You and everyone else."

"Yeah. Even 'the Moo' at his worst was a better soldier then Underpants!" He shook his head. "Anyway, he was headed towards the barracks looking for you. I'll catch you later." Malatucci said, clapping him on the shoulder and continuing on toward the mess hall, while Silas did an about-face and re-traced his steps back to the barracks.

He pushed aside one half of the entrance flap and stepped inside, stopping dead in his tracks. There standing over his bunk with his back to the entrance, was Lieutenant Hunter, looking down with great interest at a small hardcover black and white composition book, with its cover folded back to show a few paragraphs written in pencil. The book, which had been left beneath his pillow earlier, was now in plain site. Silas cleared his throat loudly, causing Hunter to jump and turn around with a look on his face akin to a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He walked quickly around the opposite side of his bunk, snatching the book up, and folded the cover closed.

"Is there something I can help you with, Lieutenant? Any particular reason you're looking thru my personal belongings? "

"I…uh, I was just looking for you, Sgt," the senior officer sputtered, standing up even straighter, trying to cover his embarrassment.

"Well, sir, I can guarantee your _not_ going to find me under that pillow."

"You might want to put your personal items in your foot locker in the future."

Hunter retorted, folding his arms on his chest and acting as if the sergeant's failure to do so was a plausible excuse for his rude behavior.

"Well, I've never had anyone go thru my personal things before. Sir." Silas looked him straight in the eye, making it clear that he took Hunter for the lying sack of camel crap that he really was. "You were looking for me, Lieutenant? He asked impatiently.

Hunter was suddenly all business." Yes, I was sergeant. Tell the men that we'll be leaving at precisely 0-1300, in full gear. Prior to that, they'll be needed to help load the trucks. We've been given a special assignment. Some one-goat shit-hole. "He said, pulling out a large folded map and fumbling with it until he found the spot he was looking for. "Here it is," he said stabbing his forefinger against the map. "It's called Barak."

"Yes, sir." Silas responded, "We've had duty in Barak before, we're familiar with the area. It's also, if I'm not mistaken, where that reporter and his staff were injured when their vehicle was hit by a roadside bomb two weeks ago. That was followed by bombing three of our supply trucks this past week. It was my understanding that the entire area was considered a hot zone and we were withdrawing troops for the time being."

"Well, yes…..that is until I volunteered my men for the job-"

"Excuse me, sir; did you say you'd _volunteered _us? Scream asked incredulously. "With Barak considered a no-fly zone, we wouldn't have the back-up or support for a mission -"

"_A bunch of heathens are not going to stop us!"_ Hunter yelled disdainfully over the sergeant's voice. "The United States Army isn't going to allow murderers and terrorist's running around in robes, to get in the way of our resolve to bring democracy to this ass backward country! And I expect every man under me to show a little more backbone and adhere themselves to the task at hand!"

Ignoring Hunter's slur on his troops and holding back the ire that the comment had raised, Silas calmly asked, "And what exactly is our mission?" followed by an off-handed "sir."

"Our mission is to infiltrate the Iraqi lines, then find and apprehend this pitiful group of insurgents that have been ambushing our troops and supply trucks. When we have them, they'll be taken into custody. Now, you have your orders, Sergeant," he said as he walked toward the exit, stopping and turning just as he reached the tent flap. "I'll expect you'll have my men ready."

* * *

Staff Sergeant Christopher Silas was filled with an anger that was almost palpable; anger so intense that it rolled off him in waves and wafted on air turned so thick, that anyone inhaling it might possibly choke. He stood stiffly in front of the long table that served as the Captain's desk, and waited patiently for him to finish whatever task he was engrossed in.

"Sergeant? Are you sure you wouldn't like to have a seat?" Captain Baron asked, glancing up quickly. "I wouldn't be much longer, and you'll be a lot much more comfortable."

"No thank you, SIR." Silas replied, sharply enough for his C.O to quickly glance back up at him.

"You're angry again." Baron replied, sitting up. He closed the lid of his Notebook PC and leaned back with a sigh. "At ease, Sergeant. I suppose this has something to do with Lieutenant Hunter?"

"Yes sir." replied Silas, hands clasped behind his back, his posture no less relaxed.

"Proceed."

"Sir, I must again, respectfully request that you transfer Lieutenant Hunter to another unit, or transfer my squad to another platoon commander. The team has absolutely no confidence in the lieutenant's ability to lead them and his actions continuously put the men under his command at risk."

Captain Baron leaned forward on his forearms. "Sergeant, we've been over this before. I can't simply re-assign a platoon commander just cause because my squad leaders disagree with his methods, _or_ because there's a clash of personalities." He rose from his chair and walked around the table standing directly in front of Silas, and leaning back against the table.

"I should also mention that Lieutenant Hunter is not too happy with you and your squad at the moment. He felt that you all should have been put on report for failing to notify him when the squad went out into the village in search of the bomber a few nights ago. He insists he told you he wanted to be notified of any future developments."

Silas's jaw grated. "What he _wanted_ was to make sure he could claim the credit. He came running into the village, creating such a commotion that he alerted the bomber and got a grenade thrown at us! What the Lieutenant considers being 'fearless in battle', is nothing more then grabbing a gun and charging recklessly into a firefight! Sir!"

Baron peered at his soldier." Excuse me, Sergeant, but '_fearless in battle_?"

"Yes, sir. That's what he informed me the first day he was assigned to the squad; that I'd find him fearless in battle, but he wasn't going to let what happened to Lt. Taylor happen to him. He also insinuated a certain man in our squad was to blame for Lieutenant Taylor's death, Sir!" Silas concluded clearly angry.

Baron shook his head. A moment passed.

"Sir," Silas asked in a more moderate tone, "did you okay this mission in Barak?"

Baron looked down at his army-issue boots for a moment and sighed before raising his head." No sergeant, I did not. Apparently battalion was looking for a team to go in and infiltrate the lines. Both General Downer and Colonel Ryan remembered you and your men. When your squad was mentioned, I understand that Lt. Hunter jumped at the offer."

Silas snorted. "Why am I not surprised." he said under his breath.

"This is out of my hands. " Baron said. "As far as the mission in Barak, I've been assured that you will have support, both ground and air, ready and waiting to be deployed at a moments notice, and that came straight from battalion. With regard to Lieutenant Hunter, that is also out of my hands." Baron stood up and walked around the table returning to his seat. "I'm sorry Sergeant, but that's all I can do. I know he's not one of the most liked men in this camp, but everyone is going to have to get along in order to continue with our objectives."

Neither man spoke for several moments.

"Was there anything else?"

Silas turned his head to face his commanding officer. "Sir, I think you know that I'm not in the habit of disrespecting my senior officers, but this _complaint _has absolutely nothing to do with my ability to get along. For the record, my only concern is Lieutenant Hunter's lack of skill in the field and his inability to think about his actions _before _putting an entire squad at risk. The men do not trust him to lead them or consider their welfare, and with this alone in mind, I am seriously concerned about the situation that we will be placing ourselves in later today."

Baron's eyes showed empathy. "Understood," he said with a nod." And duly noted Sgt. Your dismissed."


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Back To Barak, Chapter Two

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.

Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

Still seething, but having regained his composure, Silas strode quickly toward the large tent that housed his squad, and stuck his head thru the entrance flap. 

"**Fire Team Death Street!" **

The squad, one or two still in various stages of dressing, all turned quickly at the sound of his voice.

"**Let's go! Up and at 'em! "**

"What? No good morning?" quipped a barely awake Dim, causing the rest of the squad to laugh under their breath.

Silas stepped into the tent, his eyes narrowing. **"You are to get yourselves to the mess hall, and get yourselves back here within the next hour. Upon returning, you will join Sgt Malatucci's squad loading two vehicles with supplies. When you've finished, I expect you geared up and ready to move out by 0-1300 hours. And I mean at exactly 0-1300 goddamned hours! You got that Dim?" **he screamed.

"Yes, sergeant! " Dim replied, quickly jumping to his feet.

"**You all got that?"** Silas asked, looking from man to man.

"Yes,Sergeant!

"Yes, sir!"

"**And don't call me sir, goddamned it!" **he snapped, then turned quickly on his heel and stormed out of the tent, leaving the men to look at one another and shrug.

"Fuck!" said Dim, looking at his squad-mates. "Who peed in _his _Wheaties?"

* * *

The Humvee rolled down the uneven half-paved and dirt road, bouncing up and down like a yo-yo, jostling the five passengers in the rear of the vehicle. They'd been sitting on the hard wooden benches for the past two hours, occasionally reaching out a hand to prevent themselves from falling over onto the deck. 

"Yo, Mrs. B!" – Smoke yelled out.

"Don't call me that!" came a plaintive wail from the front seat.

"You got ta find every pothole in I-raq!" Smoke called. "Got-damned roads here make the roads in Compton look like-"

"Zip it, Smoke! I've had about all the Compton comparisons I can take today!" Scream snapped testily, before rising from his bench. He reached one hand up to hold onto the flimsy camouflage covering overhead, and made his way to the area behind the front seat where Mrs. B and Doublewide were sitting. Leaning forward behind Mrs. B's head he said," Keep your eyes open, we should see signs for Barak about a mile from where we are now."

"Got it Sergeant!"

"Doublewide, keep your eyes open for any movement; you see _anything_, you tell me and get ready to shoot it! I'll watch Mrs. B's side." With that he sat down behind the driver's seat and pushed aside the camouflage covering enough to create a small window to watch thru.

"Yes sir, sergeant."

Meanwhile the rest of the squad watched what was going on in the front of the vehicle. Dim leaned forward and the rest of the men followed suit.

"I don't know what has the Sergeant so pissed off, but I have a funny feeling, and that's not good." Dim whispered.

"Shit! All you got to do is take a look behind us and you don't got ta wonder no more." Smoke hissed back, gesturing with his hand at the smaller vehicle behind them which contained several more soldiers. Lieutenant Hunter was up top, manning the M2-machine gun with a smug look on his face.

"Nah…." Tariq whispered back, shaking his head side to side." Dim's right. There's something's bothering the sergeant and I don't think it's just Underpants. I think something's' up with this mission and he's not happy about it."

"What mission? We don't have any idea where we're going and that's not -"

"**Maybe** _next_ time you should all _whisper_ so I don't hear you." Scream commented, standing no less then a foot away and catching the men off guard.

"Uh…" Dim began.

"Sergeant?" began Tariq, who was the closest to him. "We were wondering why you hadn't told us exactly where we were going and what we'd be doing. You usually let us know what's what. And with Lt. Hunter along for the ride, well……."

"It's about the mission, isn't it, sergeant? Angel asked." Something's bothering you."

Silas exhaled forcefully and sat down on the bench beside Tariq. He removed his helmet from his head, and shook it out of force of habit; he then removed his I-COM as well, and ran a hand over his close cut hair. He motioned for them to lean forward. "Seems we can thank our old friends Colonel Ryan and General Downer again for this. The word is battalion was looking for a team to go into an area where there's been a lot of insurgent activity. I heard it was between us and another platoon and apparently Underpants jumped up and volunteered us; not because he thought we could do the job, but because he thought it would earn points with Ryan."

"Geezz….Another shit mission?" Tariq said glumly.

"We seriously need a new specialty." Dim quipped

"Got that right Dim-wit…I'm about tired of shit!" Smoke responded. "So what's so bad about this mission?"

"Our job is to infiltrate the Iraqi lines around this town, then find and apprehend the group of insurgents and take them into custody. He paused. "We're heading towards Barak."

"Barak? Dim asked, clearly agitated. "He volunteered us to-"

"What? What's in Barak? That raggedy-ass town where we had road block duty?"

Smoke interjected, now clearly concerned.

"Yeah," Angel answered. "'Cept now it's overrun by insurgents who've been bombing our troops and our supply trucks; they bombed a US journalist and his crew, too…Good lord!"

Tariq looked at Silas. "Anything else you worried about Sergeant?"

"Why? That's not enough for you?" Silas retorted, turning to look at Tariq.

"What's bad about it is that I don't trust that Lieutenant Hunter's made sure we'll have enough coverage and support to do this thing right. Captain Baron says battalion swore to him that we'd have plenty of troops going in with us, _and_ back up support, ground, and air. I want to believe that's true, but if he hasn't-"

"We're shit outta luck" Dim replied.

"Detroit looks so good just now……" Tariq quipped.

"_Anywhere else_ looks good right about now." Smoke replied.

"Our friends, Ryan, Downer and Hunter…" From Dim.

"You mean Moe, Larry and Curly?" Angel asked.

"That about covers it, Angel." Silas said nodding.

"Sergeant?" Mrs. B. yelled back. "I just saw the first sign for Barak!"

There was suddenly a loud squelching sound beside Silas and he realized it was coming from his ICOM, which he grabbed and placed back on his head.

"Rawhide Six, this is Rawhide One, "he heard Hunter call.

"**Rawhide One this is Rawhide Six**. -" Silas screamed into the microphone, feeling a small surge of glee as he watched Lt. Hunter wince at the volume of his response.

"Rawhide Six, pull over!"

"Didn't anyone ever tell this guy, it's not a good idea to pull over on a deserted road, in the middle of a war?" asked Tariq?

"Hang back a minute, Rawhide One," Silas answered back, gesturing for the vehicle behind him to slow down and give his vehicle room. The driver of the smaller vehicle saw it and gave him a nod, before slowing.

"Should I be pulling over Sergeant?" Mrs. B asked.

"No! Just slow down enough for Dim and Smoke to get out." Then turning toward the two men,"Check for any signs of IED's or anything that could be a bomb, or anything that looks suspicious. If its okay, we'll stop right here!" He yelled.

"Doublewide! You check out your window, anything looks suspicious, you yell!"

"Right Sergeant, she replied as Dim and Smoke jumped carefully from the back of the truck. When they were certain there was nothing suspicious, Silas had them stop on the road and ordered everyone out, reminding them to be careful.

Lt. Hunter's vehicle had followed and stopped about 10 feet behind them. As soon as Hunter exited his vehicle, he began to yell at Silas. "Sergeant, I gave you a direct order to pull over-"

"Which I followed, once I ascertained that there were no signs of IED's, as I'm sure you expected me to. Wouldn't do to have us all blow up, sir! "Silas replied.

He heard a soft snort from behind him and recognized it as having come from Dim.

Hunter was momentarily at a loss for words; thinking that he had in some way been belittled, he responded rather sarcastically, "Yes, Sergeant of course that's what I expected! I shouldn't have to remind my people how to do their jobs!"

"Now, we'll be heading onto this road here," He said pointing to a small meandering road, "and entering Barak via the bridge. Intel says the bridge has not been compromised, so this is where we will take cover and hold up until nightfall. Now-"

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," Sergeant Malatucci asked. "What about the road leading to the bridge? Do we know whether or not it's controlled by the insurgents? And if so, will we have additional support? It's not just us, am I right Lieutenant?"

Hunter stood taping his foot impatiently while Malatucci was speaking, and then responded as though speaking to child who lacked the sufficient mentality to comprehend. "We have exactly all the support we need right here, sergeant! Obviously any ground or air activity would give our position away!"

"Well, that answered _that_ question." Mrs. B whispered.

"Now as I was saying," Hunter began with a seething look at Malatucci," we will take cover at the bridge. Sergeant Malatucci's team will go in and scout the area; then at sometime before dawn, we will proceed into Barak on foot and prepare to make our stand."

"Dear Lord, not another stand, "whispered Angel, who was standing behind Silas.

"What I want to know is if we're Custer's troops or the Indians," Dim cracked, standing beside Angel.

"I think we're the Indians." said Tariq

"Who won?" Smoke asked.

From behind him "_Not _the Indians," hissed Doublewide.

"Shh!" Said Silas under his breath.

"You all have your orders. Sergeant Silas your vehicle will follow behind mine and the Sgt Malatucci's will fall back behind you. Move out," He yelled and headed back to his own vehicle.

"You heard the man," Scream yelled. "Mount up!"


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Back To Barak, Chapter Three

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.

Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

"This is just insanity. It's an exercise in futility!" Dim said, as soon as they were all back on the truck and turning down the road towards Barak. "He thinks that two squads with limited weapons are going to waltz right past the Iraqi's, into this village and….."

"Sergeant, this is a suicide mission-"

"Man, this blows-"

"Sergeant, you got to be kidding me-"

"**QUIET**!" Silas screamed. There was immediate silence; all sound with the exception of that of their vehicle as it bounced over the rough terrain, ceased.

"Look, I'm as pissed off about this whole situation as you are, but it's not going to help us to bitch and moan!" he shouted.

"You're good soldiers, all of you! " Silas said, turning his head towards the front of the vehicle and nodding to include the two women in his statement. "We've been in worse situations and we're all going to get thru this if we stick together, follow my orders, and **keep your heads on straight**! That means staying alert; that means keeping your eyes and ears open. Keep a close watch for I.E.D's and _anything _that looks suspicious. These insurgents love to booby-trap anything they can so _don't _get cocky!"

Suddenly there was a high pitched whistling sound.

"**Get Down!"** Scream yelled, reaching out and grabbing Smoke by the collar, pulling him down onto the floor of the Humvee with him.

The mortar missed them and exploded behind their vehicle and just in front of the vehicle behind them. The driver, trying to steer around where the round had hit, lost control; for a moment the vehicle sat tilted on two tires, as if suspended in air, before falling over onto its side with a deafening bang.

Silas began screaming to his own people to get out, all but shoving Tariq and Angel headfirst from the truck and then jumping out himself, and screaming for everyone to take cover.

He looked toward the front of his vehicle to see the drivers' side door flung open and an agitated Dim, yanking on Doublewide's safety harness which had some become locked and was now trapping her inside the vehicle. Dim stood there screaming, "Cut it! Cut it! at Smoke, who quickly pulled out his knife and began to saw thru the belt, while Mrs. B held the belt taut and tried to calm Doublewide, who's lips were moving in a silent prayer. The material finally yielded and they two men pulled her from the vehicle, Silas on their heels. They dived behind a small berm between the road and shoulder, just as the truck they'd been riding in exploded. A quick head count showed everyone had made it.

Throughout getting his own squad to cover, Silas could hear Malatucci screaming "get out, get out, take cover!" to his men, and glanced back once to see several men, still stunned by the crash and injured, crawling out of the back of the humvee. This was followed immediately by small arms fire, and then there were the shouts of the men who'd been hit. Now safely behind cover, Silas glanced back up and saw that Malatucci and one of his soldiers were endeavoring to free the driver who was still alive inside the cab. As fate would have it, no sooner had they pulled him up, than a RPG plowed into the hood of the vehicle and it exploded, killing the three men instantly.

"Dear God," Doublewide gasped; to her left Silas punched the ground beside him hard. "**Goddamnit!**" he yelled. Further down, Angel was saying a brief prayer for the men who'd been killed and made the sign of the cross.

"This isn't right." Dim whispered, getting increasingly agitated. "This isn't right, this can't be right. Jesus! Where's Hunter? Where the hell is that sonofabitch-!"

Silas turned to his right and grabbed at the collar of Dim's B.D.U jacket. "**Shut the fuck up!"** he screamed in the other man's face and then pushed his head down into the dirt. "Anybody see anything? Any idea where they are?" he yelled over the continued sound of small arms fire.

"They're behind the hill on the other side of the road and to the left Sergeant! Behind that outcrop of trees," yelled Angel. "Looks like at least four or five!"

"I got two over here!" yelled Mrs. B. "All the way to the left of where Angel said."

" Got ta be where they shot the RPG's from! They got-" yelled Smoke.

"Everybody get down!" Tariq screamed suddenly as he recognized the sound of a mortar being fired.

Seven heads immediately went down to the ground, hands over their helmets as the mortar round rose up, arcing high into the air and came down exploding just in front of the berm where they'd been taking cover. Sand flew thru the air as did small rocks and gravel. Almost immediately, there was the sound of a second mortar round being fired.

Silas flipped over on his back and looked out over the desert terrain immediately behind them. That last mortar round had been close, meaning that someone was probably spotting for these bastards and if they stayed where they were, they'd be sitting ducks, just waiting for mortar to land on them. There was a good size hill that would be excellent cover about 1500 feet back and so far no sign of enemy forces behind them. They'd have to move and move now. They'd establish a perimeter and then call for back up.

He called out to the rest of the squad. "**Alright everybody, listen up**! We gotta

get outta here now, right now! We're heading for that hill about 1500 feet behind us. Dim, Smoke and Doublewide you'll go first. Each of you picks a direction and covers it. Be ready to hit the deck if you draw fire."

"Angel! You'll cover our right side; I'll cover the left, and Tariq you cover straight ahead. Get ready to move you three!"

"Ready Sarge!" Doublewide called out.

"Then **MOVE**!"

Three soldiers jumped up and began running as fast as they could over the rocky, brush covered ground toward the hill. They were half-way between where they had been and their new destination when they heard the loud booming of mortar being fired. The round landed thirty feet behind them and shook the ground, causing Smoke to trip over a low piece of brush and fall, landing hard on his left knee. He lay unmoving for a moment then struggled back to his feet. With Dim's help on one side and Doublewide's on the other, they made it the rest of the way and over the hill to safety.

"Where they hell did that come from?" Dim gasped, breathing heavily, looking out from over the top of the small hill.

1500 feet behind them Tariq was asking the same question.

"They've got a spotter. No way mortar's that accurate," Silas answered. "We gotta go now."

"Sergeant!" Mrs. B screamed. "Look!"

From across the road they could see a small –mortar equipped truck advancing down the hill towards the road, and towards them as well.

Thru the still air came the sudden sound of an engine running roughly but steadily; it was coming from the humvee that Lieutenant Hunter had been riding in; obviously a soldier was still alive inside the small M1116. There was the sound of grating metal and gears followed by a soft "whirring", and then as if by magic, the gun atop it fired rapidly, hitting its mark and destroying the mortar bearing truck.

The soldiers who had taken cover cheered loudly, but their joy was short-lived.

Almost as soon as the mortar was destroyed, an RPG raced thru the air and struck the little M1116 squarely in side. The explosion sent clouds of dust and shards of metal thru the air.

Despite the grimness of the situation Silas realized that the explosion provided them with desperately needed cover; they had to move and move quickly. "Tariq, Mrs. B, Angel! Move, move, move! **MOVE now!** "


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Back To Barak, Chapter Four

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.

Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and while not overly graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

"Sound off!" Silas yelled.

"I'm here," Dim called back

"We're here, Sarge! Me and Mrs. B! "Doublewide responded.

"Here Sergeant!" from Angel

"Yo, Sergeant, I'm here!"

Silas looked to his right, where Tariq lay holding the UHF radio. "Okay! I want two people on the area in front of us and behind us at all times! Angel! You and Dim take the front! Doublewide and Smoke, dig in and take the back! "

"Got it, Sergeant!" Smoke yelled, grabbing his shovel. Doublewide followed suit, and began digging a depression in the sand; this way, when facing backwards, they'd be below the line of site provided by their current cover. They then took crouching positions, ready to shoot anything that walked or crawled out of the thick brush behind them.

"Tariq! You cover that side", he said pointing to his left. "Mrs. B and I are going to alternate on the radio and covering the right side. Any of you SEE ANYTHING, you YELL, GOT THAT?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Yes sergeant!"

"Goddamnit! Don't call me sir! "Silas snapped, reaching out beside him and grabbing the radio, then fiddling with the frequency control. There was a loud burst of static, a high-pitched whine and indiscernible chatter. "This is Rawhide Six to Base, this is Rawhide Six to base, come in base…. over." Again came a burst of static and intermittent conversation.

Another try. "This is Rawhide Six to Base, come in base.We need emergency back-up! Over!" He tried over and over again until the radio responded with a high pitched whine and seemed to go dead in his hand. Thoroughly pissed off, Silas threw the radio to the ground and screamed, "you sonofabitch!"

As if by magic, the radio came alive.

"Rawhide six, this is Base, over."

Silas snatched up the radio, amid sounds of relief from his squad. "Base this is Rawhide Six, over."

"What's your position Rawhide six? Over."

"We are currently one mile down the main road into Barak .We are in immediate need of back up and transportation," Silas relayed.

"Barak! " The voice on the radio choked. "What the hell…?" Some one get……."

There was a muffled voice. "Rawhide six, say again?"

"Base, I say, we are currently one mile down the main road into Barak and in immediate need of back up and transportation! " Silas grumbled, "You fucking deaf?" to himself, causing the squad to chuckle, some of the tension momentarily eased.

For several minutes there was no response. "Rawhide Six, stand by." Another long pause and then the radio came back to life, but this time with a different voice.

"Rawhide six, this is Captain Baron. Identify yourself."

"This is Silas, sir, over."

"Have you made contact, Sergeant?"

"That's a negative, sir! We were ambushed at our location. We have lost all our vehicles and approximately 14 men including our C.O! Over!"

"Sergeant, am I to understand correctly that you and your people are _stranded_ out there? Where is the _Lieutenant_? Over."

"Base, that's affirmative. We were ambushed just inside Barak. The insurgents destroyed three vehicles before we could respond. We've lost Sgt. Malatucci's squad and there is no sign of Lieutenant Hunter. Over."

"Rawhide six, what's your situation regarding the insurgents? Over."

"We are currently dug in. There isn't sufficient cover for us to advance and determine the situation. Over. But I have a feeling they'll move in once nightfall comes! We're basically sitting ducks here sir! Over."

"Sergeant, you and your people sit tight! I'm going to get you out of there!

All of you. Over."

"Yes sir, rawhide six, out!"

* * *

She was sure she'd seen movement; no, it wasn't possible, it had to be a figment of her imagination. She rose up on her forearms again and peeked over the berm. The bodies of several of her fellow soldiers lay dead and lifeless, where they'd fallen after they'd been attacked by the insurgents. No. It couldn't be, she was seeing things. It was the heat and stress, of course, Brenda told herself. They were sitting in the middle of the damned desert-

There it was again. It was only the slight lifting of a bloody hand, but it was movement just the same. She leaned over and nudged Dim in the side. "Dim!" she hissed softly. She gestured with her chin. "You see that? You see that guy over there? He's alive!"

"What?" he whispered back and looked where she was pointing. This time two hands came forward, palms pressing against the hard packed dirt and pulled until the bulk of the body behind it moved forward an inch, maybe less. "Holy shit!" Dim said.

"I saw it, too." Angel said, surprising them. "I thought I was seeing things but, he's been crawling forward bit by bit."

"Jesus." Dim shook his head. "We can't just leave him there."

"No, we can't." He turned to his left. "Sergeant?"

Silas was lying on his back, eye's open. He rolled over. "You see something'?"

He quickly rolled over and raised his head slightly; he caught the movement of the man pulling himself along, and echoed Dim's sentiments.

"We can't just leave him there. Sir."

Silas was momentarily silent. "You want to go?" He said to Angel. "Dim?"

Both men nodded assent.

"Okay, but you see any sign of activity, you hear gun fire, **you drop **and get your asses back here immediately! Me, Tariq and Mrs. B will cover you."

The two men went quickly over the small hill that had been their protection for the last few hours and rolled over, lying on their stomachs and scouting the ground in front of them. When they were certain that it was safe to move, they crouched low and ran quickly the 1500 feet to the small berm that was just short of the unevenly paved road and lay down behind it.

"How you want to do this? " Dim asked.

"Well, best move would be for one to stay here and cover the other one, 'cept

I don't know just how bad he's hurt and if just one of us can move him," Angel replied. "So, I guess we'll both run across and if it takes both of us……"

Dim nodded. "Okay." He responded taking a deep breath. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

"One…Two………Three!"

The two men quickly leapt over the small berm and across the road, and immediately lied on the ground, one on either side of the man who hadn't moved in the last few minutes. "Hey, Bro." Angel whispered. "We're going to get you outta here."

When there was no response, Dim reached out a hand and placed it on the soldiers' neck, for several seconds, noting the carotid pulse was absent. Dim looked over to Angel." Forget it." He whispered sadly. "He's gone."

"Lord, Lord."

"We better get back to the squad," Dim said." You ready?"

The two men jumped up and began to run towards the road when there was a loud whistling sound and mortar landed directly behind them.

"Holy shit, Angel! Run!" Dim screamed. He'd begun to run too, when a sharp pain ripped thru his left shoulder and momentarily stunned him and slowed him down. Another mortar exploded to his left and he tripped over his feet as he tried to run forward. Ahead of him he could see Angel just reaching the other side but another mortar landed in the middle of the road and sent sand, rocks and small scrub brush into the air and blinding him. He thought he heard the sound of several vehicles in the distance.

And he was fairly certain he could hear the sound of someone calling him.

* * *

Dim frantically wiped the dirt and dust from his face, the movement eliciting a sharp knife of pain thru his left shoulder. Turning his head he could see that there was a jagged hole in his B.D.U jacket, stained with blood. He reached out and touched the fingers of his right hand to the area and they came away tinged with blood. He could also feel a chunk of something in the wound, most likely shrapnel from the mortar.

He turned his face again, this time toward the sound of approaching vehicles; there was a loud rumbling sound that he believed to be the sound of several large vehicles coming over the bridge that led into Barak. He turned quickly and realized there was no place to hide. Their trucks had been destroyed; all that remained were several large boxes of supplies that had fallen off two of their trucks and……

Bodies…….the bodies of the dead soldiers. He immediately dropped to the ground, his shoulder screaming in protest. He lie on top of his M16 and put his head down,trying to make himself look as lifeless as possible.

The vehicles came down the road onto the sandy area, one stopping immediately beside him. Squinting he could see that there were two large troop carriers and a small open humvee, filled with several men wearing the traditional Iraqi clothing, as well as long scarves that covered there faces; definitely _not_ military wear. He heard someone yelling orders in a foreign tongue, and looked all the way to his right, to see a man in a long white robe and head wrap, point out the boxes, which the men immediately gathered and placed on one of the trucks.

Once the boxes had been loaded, the leader gave another order, and the insurgents began going around to each of the soldiers, removing weapons, grenades, knives and small arms from leg holsters, even personal belongings; one young man went as far as to remove the wedding bands from three of the deceased soldiers. Dim lay there watching and seething; he was further away from any of the other men, but it wouldn't be long til someone spotted him and came over to scavenge what they could. There'd be no way he could continue the charade. He'd be killed. He thought about Eddie and Vanessa. What would happen to them if he were killed?

He could hear laughter as the five men stood around laughing at something that had been taken from a soldiers pack; this was the only chance he'd get. Slowly he reached out both hands, and then stopped. They were still laughing. He placed his palms flat on the ground and pulled him self forward, again, and again, and again, until he almost beneath the large truck. Crawling quickly, he crawled up onto the rack where a spare tires and supplies could be kept. The rack was up higher then on most vehicles and if he curled up, it would be difficult to see him; unless someone specifically looked.

The laughter got louder and closer. He could hear the sound of doors opening and slamming closed as the men climbed back into the trucks. Then the engine started and the vehicles began to move towards the unevenly paid road. They were heading home, back to Barak.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Back To Barak, Chapter Five

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.

Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort.Please read at your own risk.

* * *

"Holy shit, Angel! Run!" Dim had screamed at him after the first mortar round exploded behind them. Angel hadn't needed any encouragement; he was certain

that he'd run faster then he ever remembered running in this life. He'd just

gotten across the road when he heard the second mortar behind him and scurried over the small berm, throwing himself down on his stomach. He quickly flipped over, and looked to his left expecting to see Dim lying right beside him, except Dim wasn't there! He popped his head up over the berm and looked across the road; though his vision was partially obscured by a huge cloud of dust, he was certain he could make out the general shape of his squad mate, who was grabbing at his left shoulder.

Angel saw the other man suddenly turn around and move away from the road, stumbling blindly. "Dim"!" he called out. "Dim over here!" but there was no response. He was about to call out again when he heard the sound of engines and several large vehicles coming from the direction of the bridge onto the uneven road; they were almost upon them. Angel dropped down behind the berm and prayed, 'Dear, God, please hear my prayer! Please don't let kill him!'

Angel watched as the insurgents piled out of their vehicles and began to pick up the boxes and stack them into the trucks. He kept carefully lifting his head trying to locate Dim, but he didn't seem him. He had to be there! Angel thought. There's nowhere to hide!

He watched as the men began to walk from soldier to soldier and strip them of any weapons they might have on their persons and then for their personal possessions as well, and that's when he saw a slight movement on the ground. He dropped his head back down as one of the men ventured near the edge of the road and stood unmoving for several minutes. He heard a burst of laughter and as he peeked back over the berm, his eyes going directly to the spot where he'd seen-

"Oh, dear Lord! He thought, taken a inhaling deeply. It was Dim! He was pulling himself towards the truck-

There was the sound of laughter again, this time much more raucous, and he quickly dropped his head back down. He could hear doors slamming, and the engines turn over as the trucks pulled back onto the road and returned over the bridge.

He lifted his head one last time. There was no sign of Dim anywhere. He quickly turned and high-tailed it back to the rest of the squad.

* * *

He'd run all the way back to where the squad sat waiting behind cover. "Don't shoot! It's me!" he yelled," as he saw Tariq's head come up at the sound of his footsteps. He leaped over the small hill, sliding down the other side into the sand, landing on top of Smoke and nearly toppling him over.

"Angel!" Silas Screamed. "What the fuck happened! Where's Dim, goddamnit?"

"I don't know! One minute he was there, the next minute he wasn't!" he said hoarsely. "He…..he…"He started coughing hard enough to choke.

"Okay, okay. Calm down soldier, drink something" Scream said, pulling the tube of Angels' CamelBaka bit further out of his body armor.

Angel grabbed at the tube and drank quickly, causing him to choke and spit the water back out. It was several minutes before he was able to drink and swallow. Meanwhile the rest of the squad was gawking at him.

"Man your posts and keep your eyes peeled goddamnit!" Scream snapped at everyone. He turned back to Angel." You able to talk yet?"

"Yes, sir…Sorry Sergeant, I just…." Angel began. "We got over to the other side of the road just fine, but that soldier was already gone. We got up and started to head back when mortar went off behind us. Dim yelled at me, told me to run…he was right behind me, and when I got over that berm at the edge of the road, suddenly he wasn't!"

He told Silas that he was certain Dim had been injured, about the insurgents moving in, seeing him crawling under the truck. "I know he's out there, Sergeant! We can't leave him there; we gotta go back and look!"

"Jesus! Hiding with fucking dead bodies." Silas heard Tariq whispered; he watched Doublewide cross herself, and saw Mrs. B turn a deathly shade of white.

"We're not gonna leave him there!" Silas said calmly but firmly. "But there's almost no cover here and none were we got ambushed, so we're going to have to wait till dark. And that's not gonna be much longer. We'll move forward, and use the NVG's to-"

"SHHH! What the Fuck!" Smoke whispered, quickly turning and aiming to the extreme left. "You all hear that?"

They'd all heard it. Silas raised his hand to his neck and made a quick side to side motion signaling everyone to shut up. He pointed to Smoke and gestured for him to stay where he was and sent Doublewide to cover the opposite side. He signaled Tariq to be ready.

The sound of footsteps in the sand came closer and closer… they could hear the sound of panting, a raspy throat sound, and then a tall frame came into sight, bent slightly at the waist. A hand came up, and a hoarse voice gasped "don shoot!" but not before Tariq leaped from his position and slammed hard into the man, tackling him and laying him face down in the sand. Immediately Dim and Silas had them covered.

The man struggled and flipped Tariq off of his back, then succeeded in rolling over; Tariq leapt back on top of him and punched him quite hard in the jaw, once, twice, a third time, then just as suddenly, he jumped up off the man and took several steps backward.

"Got Damn!" Smoke said, rather annoyed. "It's just Underpants!" He shut up quickly as Silas gave him a look.

Hunter slowly rolled over and got to his knees, appearing rather shaken.

"Lieutenant Hunter!" Silas asked." Are you injured, sir?"

"Well I _wasn't_ until your man attacked me, Sergeant! I've got a good mind to put him on report for assaulting an officer!" He replied nastily, as he climbed to his feet and brushed himself off. ""And why are you and your squad all the way back here! Where the hell is Malatucci's squad! What are you people waiting for?" he yelled.

The squad stood there in stunned silence, but Silas wasn't about to put up with any shit after everything that had happened today. This miserable bastard had gotten half of the men he'd left with this morning, killed, including his good friend. Red in the face, his fists clenched and barely able to contain his anger , to keep from throttling the man, Silas took two steps forward and _addressed_ his senior officer.

"We're HERE because this is the only COVER and obviously the rest of us would like to STAY ALIVE and don't give a good goddamn about how that looks on our RECORDS! We're here because we have NO SUPPORT and NO BACK UP, and because half of our unit GOT BLOWN to BITS! We haven't heard back from command for several HOURS! We've been attacked by insurgents and one of my men is now MISSING, so excuse the hell out of us for being CAUTIOUS when we hear someone running around in the sand! And as for Sergeant Malatucci and his squad, they're DEAD, Lieutenant, they're all DEAD! They were killed when we were AMBUSHED, which is why we shouldn't have come to this shit hole in the first place!"

Hunter took two steps back as Silas glared at him and adjusted his M16 back over his shoulder and then walked several paces in the opposite direction. His squad quickly moved out of the way and let him pass.

"What the hell is _his_ problem?" Hunter asked, addressing the rest of the squad, who simply turned away from him and went back to their posts.

* * *

Dim had no idea how long he'd been sitting in the storage rack of the large troop carrier, but estimated it had been close to three hours, based on the time they'd arrived in Barak and how close it was to night fall. His legs were cramped and aching and while the idea of unfolding his body and finally stretching his legs _sounded _good, he knew the experience would be excruciating. He was quite certain that all circulation in his lower extremities had ceased.

The group of 10 or so men who'd ambushed their unit were met with cheers and shouts of _"Al mout li Amreeka, "_as they drove over the bridge and into the small village. There was an air of celebration as wives and laughing children rushed to help unloading the trucks, finishing just as the _muezzin _began the callto _adhan. _It was nearly sunset, and time for _Maghrib _; the fourth of the five daily prayers. He'd waited quietly while the insurgents rushed back to their homes to perform their ablutions before turning toward Mecca and praising Allah.

Using his hands to push and pull himself toward the end of the storage rack, and then holding on tightly to the metal bars that attached it to the underside of the vehicle, Dim managed to lower himself cross-legged to the ground. He pulled the right side of his BDU collar towards him, folded it over twice, and took a deep breath, before placing the rough cloth into his mouth and biting down on it. He then reached down and forcibly uncrossed his right leg. He bit down harder and groaned thru clenched teeth, breathing in and out thru his nose rapidly, his right fist pounding the ground and he tried to ride out the pain. He panted softly and

waited several minutes until the worst of the pain had passed, and then proceeded to straighten his left leg. This time the pain seemed to shoot upward and right into his left shoulder, reminding him of his injury and he bit down on the cloth in his mouth hard enough to bite thru the fabric.

He was nearly exhausted from the pain, but he knew he couldn't remain where he was. They'd be back, most likely immediately after prayers. He was surprised that they hadn't left anyone at the bridge to guard the road, but then realized that they probably believed everyone who had been with the convoy was already dead. He shook his head, as if doing so would clear those horrible thoughts and images from his mind.

He crawled on his stomach to the end of the vehicle and quickly took in his surroundings, checking the perimeter. He didn't see anyone. Just a few chickens,

a dog or was that a goat? Whatever it was it was it was thin and scrawny. It was obvious that their human co-habitants didn't feed them, but left them to fend for themselves. He carefully crawled out from under the truck and stood up, his legs almost buckling beneath him; half-crouching, he made it to a small patch of brush and hid behind it.

Several chickens immediately began to scurry after him, perhaps thinking he might have food for them, and began clucking loudly. He tried to shoo them away by waving his hands but that did nothing. He'd be damned if he'd spent hours hunched over underneath a truck to escape being caught, and have his whereabouts revealed by a damned chicken! He kicked at several, and nearly got pecked, for his trouble. Suddenly he remembered the raisin nut mix that was left over from yesterday's lunch M.R.E, which had been the Chicken with Thai sauce and white rice, and hadn't been so bad. He reached into the side pocket of his BDU jacket and found the pack with his fingers as he scanned the area behind him, and found another hiding place. He ripped open the package, shook the mix out, and tossed the few handfuls several feet away from him. The squawking chickens immediately ran towards the food as Dim turned and ran to his next cover.

When he looked back up, he could see a crowd of people coming out of a large building, probably what doubled as a Mosque, or school; most of them were heading back to their homes, presumably for an evening meal. Three men continued toward the truck and were conferring in Arabic, when one man stopped suddenly and pointed to the ground; he walked to the back of the truck and seemed to be following……

'Oh God!' Dim thought. 'Did I leave tracks?"

The man began gesticulating wildly now and _all three_ men were walking back and forth from the truck to just about where he'd tangled with the chickens. They kicked the emaciated birds out of their way and came forward. Dim quickly got down on his knees and began to look around frantically. He spotted a very small dilapidated building about the size of a shed several hundred feet away from him. If he could just get there-

Suddenly he heard the sound of children running down the wide dirt path towards the bridge, laughing and yelling happily. The three men immediately turned towards the children, cutting them off; they began admonishing the children loudly and pointing them back to the village. Several women came out after them and they too began to yell at the children, while the men continued to yell at the children and the women. It was during this commotion, that Dim took a deep breath…..

….and ran!


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Back To Barak, Chapter Six

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose. Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

A/N reminder that this story takes place between Episode 12 "Suicide Rain" and Episode 13 "Follow the money"

* * *

"Sergeant, I am not going to hold up an entire mission to look for _one _man!" Hunter began, holding up one finger as if to emphasize his point. "This mission is too important!"

"Mission? What mission, sir? We have no vehicles. We have no artillery, a limited supply of ammunition, and no back up! The insurgents hold this entire area. This mission is clearly over, Sir!" Silas yelled back.

"That's ridiculous Sergeant, we're here, and we'll do the job we came to do first, before running around looking for your Private _Dimwit_!" Hunter replied. Thinking that the rest of his men would appreciate his attempt at wit, he looked past Silas expecting to see smiles from the rest of the squad and instead, saw looks of displeasure so intense, it was physically painful.

"That's private _DUMPHY_, sir!" Silas snapped.

"Dimwit? That's a rather derisive nickname, isn't it?" Tariq asked sotto voce.

"We have a responsibility to our fellow soldiers." Silas stated.

Hunter folded him arms on his chest. "No one is going to get away with kidnapping an American soldier, and these _goat-herders_ know it!"

"Maybe someone should go tell Private Dana that." Angel said softly but loud enough for everyone to hear, and for a moment, no one spoke.

"You and...you there!" He said pointing first at Angel and then Smoke "I want you two to come with me; we'll find our point of entry into Barak, near the bridge-"

"The insurgents have the bridge, sir." Silas interjected." That's how they've been getting out and back in."

"Intel says-"

"Well Intel is wrong then!"

"Sergeant if I didn't know better I'd say your entire team was shirking their responsibility."

"Ignorant-" Doublewide began.

"-son of a _bitch_." Mrs. B whispered in reply.

Silas got up from where he was crouched on the ground and stepped close to Hunter, whispering angrily, "Excuse me Lieutenant? I'm not sure if I heard you correctly, but in case I didn't, let me tell you that there isn't a man or woman here who could be accused of shirking their responsibilities today. Including the ten men who lying dead on the other side of the road! You want to this squad to do your bidding; I'd seriously suggest you stop insulting them. Sir!"

Hunter ignored Silas's comment and quickly gestured to Angel and Smoke, "You heard me! Move!"

* * *

Though it was only about two hundred feet away from his last hiding place, to Dim, it seemed to take forever for him to reach the little shed. He'd ducked inside and curled back up into a corner, pulling two small bales of straw in front of him then covering himself with the loose straw. The three men had come past the shed; one had even stuck his head inside briefly, looked this way and that but decided nothing was amiss and kept on going. Dim had bitten his lower lip and held his hand over his mouth the entire time, praying that the man couldn't hear the sound of his rasping

breath or the way his heart was pounding in his chest. They must have eventually decided there was nothing to be concerned about after all, because they returned back to the truck and remained there.

There was a dull throb in his left shoulder. He'd finally had a chance to explore the wounded area bit more and there was definitely a foreign body in there. He'd pulled the cloth scarf he usually wrapped around his face and neck out of his pack and tried to rip the cloth with his teeth. He finally succeeded and tore off a good sized piece, then removing his BDU jacket, he placed the folded cloth against the wound to keep it clean, and put his jacket back on to keep it in place.

His legs still felt like rubber, ached terribly and he was so very tired. He didn't think he'd lost all that much blood but he also hadn't eaten very much that day. He took a small sip of water from his personal hydration system; the camelback held about 4 liters and he did the math quickly in his head, figuring how much he probably had left. Dim smiled to himself, remembering a conversation he'd had with Tariq about the suggestion that soldiers exerting moderate force in eighty degree heat should be drinking approximately one liter of water per hour. This made no sense in his mind, since it was a known fact that the human body absorbed fluid much more efficiently when they were taken in smaller frequent doses; say a few sips every ten minutes. He couldn't remember what Tariq's reply had been, but he did remember Sergeant Scream telling him to take a drink and shut the fuck up.

He wondered how the rest of them had fared; Scream, Angel, Smoke, Doublewide, Tariq, and Mrs. B. He hoped they were safe. He hoped they'd come after him. He hoped he'd see them again.

He knew he needed to stay awake, but he was so tired. Maybe he'd just close his eyes for a few minutes and rest. Yeah. Five minutes; that's all he needed.

* * *

Captain Baron had always regarded himself as a fair and reasonable man and a responsible leader; he always praised good performance, giving credit when and where it was due, no matter what rank the person held. Even when someone screwed up, he'd always allow them the opportunity to give their side of the story, officer, and NCO alike. He never asked to be liked by his men; whether he was liked or not by his men was inconsequential. All he asked was that they followed his orders to the letter, that they did the job expected of them; that they gave one hundred percent, and treated him with the respect that was his due, as a Captain in the United States Army. Though, secretly he'd been strangely elated when Sergeant Silas had related to him that he was in fact, well liked by his men, and that they believed he needed a grander title; referring to him as 'the Duke' was their way of saying that they respected and admired him.

But what Baron had no patience for, was arrogance and ineptitude, and lies. All three generally caused one big headache and he had a bitch of one right now; not to mention the rather large pain in the ass! He was quite positive that in his twenty plus years in the U.S Army, he'd never seen a cluster fuck like this one! This entire situation in Barak was becoming one huge fucking nightmare and they hadn't even come to the scary part yet!

He'd spent the last two hours on the phone with battalion trying to locate General Downer or Colonel Ryan. It took three quarters of an hour to find one of them, apprise them of the situation, only to find out that the support, both ground and air, they'd been assured would be ready and waiting to be deployed at a moments notice, was a bunch of bullshit! He been lied to and he'd passed that lie along. And that pissed him off, because he'd assured Silas that while they'd be in harms way, they wouldn't be alone.

Silas was a good man, an honest man with integrity. He was a good soldier and a responsible leader, and he certainly didn't deserve to be lied to. He knew that Silas's request that Lieutenant Hunter be transferred wasn't about getting back at Hunter for his past transgressions. No, he'd come in this morning concerned about his men, concerned only with their welfare, with no malice aforethought and he'd done as he was told to do. He hadn't lied to Silas when he'd said Lieutenant Hunter was out of his hands; he really was. He made a promise there and then to find out exactly _whose_ hands that _maniac _was in.

* * *

"Captain, I need to know how much longer it will be until we have backup. Break. The Lieutenant seems to think that we can still perform this mission. " He replied into the radio. It was just about pitch black out and the squad had unpacked their NVG's. Hunter still hadn't returned with Smoke and Angel.

"The mission is scrubbed for now, Sergeant. I have orders from Colonel Ryan to get you out of there. The problem is getting sufficient fire power together to send. Over." Baron stated.

"Captain, I was told that back-up was waiting for us-"

"Apparently not. I know back-up was promised you, but…look; I don't know what to tell you, I wish I did. If I'd been in on this little soiree, I'd have had everything ready for you. I'm sorry about this sergeant. Over." Baron replied.

"Understood, Sir. Break. Sir, I've got one man missing. I want to ascertain that he's in the village and get him out of there. Over."

After several moments of silence, Baron came back. "Agreed. You'll have plenty of back-up to go in for extraction, Sergeant, I'm still-"

"What the HELL is going on here? " Hunter began to yell. "Who gave you permission to contact anyone Sergeant? Do you think that you can go over my head?-"

"Captain, I say again, please repeat-"Silas said, holding a hand over his ear.

"-that what you think, Sergeant? I'll write you up for insubordination myself-"

"Shut up!" Tariq snapped. "You wanna let the whole fucking country know where we're hiding?"

Baron's voice came booming over the radio. "Sergeant what the _Hell _is going on there? Are you under attack?"

"Yeah!" Smoke laughed, dropping to his knees on the ground and nudging Doublewide. "Attack of the white assholes!"

"That's Lieutenant Hunter, sir! He seems upset _THAT YOU'VE CONTACTED US, SIR!" _Silas spoke loudly between clenched teeth, turning around to face Hunter, who'd finally shut up and was now standing with a demented look on his face. Behind him several members of the squad smirked and one snorted.

"Get him on the radio. NOW!"

Silas stood and handed the radio to Hunter, who walked several paces away to before speaking; despite that, Baron's angry voice could still be heard. Mrs. B giggled and Silas gave them all a stern look, but it was apparent that he heartily agreed with what they were thinking.

Several minutes later Hunter returned with a tight angry look on his face. "We're to wait for back-up which should be here shortly. We'll proceed into the village to find Private Dumphy and head back to base. This mission has been scrubbed!" He half tossed-half threw the radio at Tariq and settled down behind cover but far away from everyone else.

"Tell us something we didn't know." Silas said under his breath.

"You know?" Mrs. B drawled quietly in her rich West Virginia accent as she leaned back and looked at Hunter. "I do believe the man's gonna cry."


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Back To Barak, Chapter Seven

Author: Rocketpowerpack

Rating: NC-17

Date: February 22, 2006

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX

Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its

production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was

written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There"

fans.

Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate

and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.

Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war;

these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and

while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort.

Please read at your own risk.

A/N reminder that this story takes place between Episode 12 "Suicide Rain" and Episode 13 "Follow the money"

In his dream he heard music; it was a familiar tune, but one that he simply could not place. The strangely haunting melody rocked him gently, like a small boat on an undulating stream and soothed him as he rode it back to the surface and back to consciousness. He opened his eyes slowly and took in the rough, wooden ceiling above him, the feeling of rough straw and hard earth beneath him and was momentarily disoriented. He heard the melody again and panicked, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as he realized where he was. It is just before sunrise and the music was the sound of the muezzin calling the people of Barak to_ Fajr, _ the Morning Prayer.

Realizing that he had fallen asleep and slept thru the night ,he attempted to lift his body from the hard bed of earth it had been lying on for the last ten hours. He felt rather warm and sweaty, and quite itchy, because some of the straw had gotten into his clothing, or more specifically in his Army-issue shorts. He scratched for several minutes and then without thinking, rolled over onto his left side; a sharp stabbing pain raced from his shoulder, along his spinal cord and burst in his brain momentarily blinding him, as a bright white light exploded behind his eyes. The pain made him cry out and laid him flat upon the ground once more.

He gave himself a few moments to recover, knowing he had to get up and find his way out of the shed without being seen. Panting gently, still stunned by the pain, he rolled to his right side facing the wall and managed to get up to his knees, then finally into a crouching position. It took several moments for him to get to his feet, as he fought a heavy wave of nausea, but he finally did so. He turned around and a harsh cry issued from his throat. He stumbled backward, slipping on the straw and landed on his ass on the hard ground. The momentum rocked his body backward, and caused him to bang the back of his head on the rough wooden wall.

In front of him stood a small boy perhaps ten years old with very dark curly hair and wide brown eyes; in his left hand he held the handle of a bucket that was filled with water, and in the crook of his right arm he held a small bowl half filled with corn. The little boy stared at him for several minutes in frank curiosity, and then smiled widely.

Before Dim could think to respond, he heard a man's voice call out, "Dawud? Dawud!"   
The pit of Dims stomach lurched, the wave of nausea returning and a cold sweat

down ran down the middle of his back.

The little boy's head turned quickly in the direction of the man's voice then looked quickly back at Dim and saw the fear on his face. He placed a finger in front of his mouth and said "Shhh!" motioning with his hand, palm outward for Dim to remain where he was, and then smiled once more before turning to go. Dim watched as he placed the bucket on the ground, then sliped out of the little shed by turning sideways and twisting his body to slip past the "door" which was really a old rotting board, lying on an angle in front of the doorway, then reach back in for the bucket.

Dim heard the mans voice again and this time the child answered back eagerly; he quickly ran toward the cluster of small houses, the small flock of emaciated chickens clucking loudly behind him as he ran down the dirt path.

Captain Baron sat head in hand and massaged his forehead. "General, I understand completely, sir, but this is not what I was told by your people in battalion - No, sir and is not what I was told by Lieutenant Hunter." Baron sat at his makeshift desk, now covered with several maps and several thick files. One hand is holding the phone to his ear and the other hand begins to massage the rather large knot of tension that has gathered at the base of his head and neck." Yes. Yes, general, we are, sir, but I made a promise to those men- Yes, sir, thank you sir."

Frustrated he clicks off the phone and tosses it onto the table none to gently. "Fuck!" he shouted at the empty tent. "Corporal St. Claire!"

"Coming, Captain," St. Claire called from behind the command tent, where he had been sneaking a cigarette. Tossing down the half smoked cigarette, he gouged out a

depression in the dirt with his heel and pushed the butt into the depression, covering it with dirt, then walked back quickly, popping a lifesaver into his mouth just before entering the tent. "Yes, sir?" St. Claire asked.

"Corporal. I hate to ask this of you, son, but I am at my wits end, and I need some help here. Help that I generally would never ask for from any of my men if this were not a dire emergency. So. Do you still have an 'in' at battalian?"

"An 'in' sir?" St. Claire replied, pretending to be confused by the question.

"You know exactly what I mean, Corporal. You seem to pretty much know exactly what's coming on down the pike long before any one else does, myself included, and something tells me you're not psychic! I've noticed that you seem to be rather 'gifted' in obtaining the supplies we need even when I've been assured of there unavalaibility. You also seem to have luck in obtaining certain other, shall we say, luxury items?"

"Uh, yes, sir, but-"

"Now, just to warn you, Corporal? I've had just as much smoke blown up my ass as I'm going to take today, so don't bullshit me!" Baron snapped.

"N-no, sir."

"Good. Now, I ask again… do you still have an 'in' over at battalian?"

"Yes sir."

"And this 'in' would be in a position where he or she hears a lot of personnel chatter?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. I would appreciate it if you would make contact with his individual and find out anything you can about Lieutenant Hunter's last billet. I expect you to do this discretely, and not to repeat what you may find out to anyone else in this unit, or otherwise. I, of course, will also be discrete and not mention how and where I got any information. I will interced on your behalf should it become neccesary to do so. That seem fair to you, Corporal?"

The corporal seemed to visibly relax. "Yes, sir."

"Again, I'm sorry to ask this of you, but I have a feeling that somewhere, someone seems to think my men are expendable and I'm not sitting around with my thumb up my ass until that someone decides to clue me in."

"No, sir! I'll take action immediately, sir."

"Thank You; Oh, one last thing, Corporal? Colonel Ryan is on his way here with back-up needed to resolve this Barak nightmare. Please let me know as soon as he arrives." Baron stood up and walked to the tent entrance. " I'll be in my quarters. If you hear a loud noise, it's my head exploding!" Baron commented, making his exit.

It was just past sunrise and Rawhide One was readying themselves for a new day.

Silas had spoken briefly to each member of his squad, making sure everyone was okay, that everyone had had a chance for a quick round of shut-eye, reminded them to eat and stay hydrated. He'd attempted to approach Lieutenant Hunter but all he got was a pained look and a shake of his head that clearly said 'don't bother me '

so he didn't. Obviously Hunter blamed him for the mission being scrubbed, and that was just fine with him, he really didn't care. Now was not the time for debate or bullshit. After having the squad rotate positions and seeing everyone settled, he hunkered back down behind cover himself.

On the far right of Silas, Smoke reached into his pack and pulled out the one and only M.R.E he had left. "Chili and Macaroni, "He said with a face.

"I like the chili," Mrs. B replied from her position beside him.

"Yeah, but for breakfast? I don't think so." Smoke said shaking his head. "Damn! Where the hell the McDonalds at!"

"Wanna trade?" Mrs. B offered with a soft smile, reaching around in her own pack. "How's Beefsteak w/Mushrooms and Western Beans sound?" She asked reading the package before passing the M.R.E pouch over to Smoke, who looked at it hungrily, then handed her the one he'd discarded as not palatable for a morning meal. "Go ahead and eat, I'll cover this," she said, putting the MRE he'd given her, back in her pack for later on.

"Yeah? Thanks." Smoke starts to open the MRE pack and stops in mid action, looking at Brenda thoughtfully.

"What?" she asked.

You ain't that much of a bitch, ya know," Smoke commented."You're sorta nice."

"Don't go telling m' secrets!" she said giving him a warm smile and receiving an equally warm one in return.

A few feet away SSgt. Silas settles on his stomach next to Angel, trying to get comfortable. "You're relieved. Try to catch some shut-eye if you can. Gonna be another long day."

" SSgt, we just started…."

"You goddamned tossed and turned all fucking night and kept me and everyone else awake! Try to sleep. You're of no goddamn use to me half awake!"

Angel nodded but stayed where he was. His expression was troubled and Silas could see it. " You're blaming yourself and you shouldn't. There wasn't anything you could do. It could have been either one of you. You both knew the risk."

Angel nodded. "Sergeant? What's the chance of finding him still alive, or getting him out of there alive. I need to hear the truth. "

Silas cocked his head to the side. "Dim's a smart guy and I don't mean just the fact that he's educated, even though we all rag on him for that. There's a good chance that he's found a place to dig in until we can get to him. I mean, lying down on the ground and making believe you're a dead body is pretty sick but it's also pretty fuckin' smart."

Angel noticeably shook as a chill went up his spine." Man, like strait out of a Steven King novel." Angel was quiet for a few more moments before saying softly," You were friends with Sergeant Malatucci, weren't you sergeant?"

Silas turned his head and stared hard at the man beside him, but he saw the question wasn't about prying into his personal life, and it was Angel after all.

His stare softened.

"Yeah." He replied. " We knew each other when we first upped and then we were in Ranger school together; we got shipped over together, but I was sent on to another unit and he came here. I hadn't seen him in about ten months, before they sent me here." He moved his arm and watched as the displaced sand ran down the hill in tiny rivulets." His folks are good people; they have a small farm, a dairy farm, up in Schoharie; that's upstate New York.

"You been?" Angel asked surprised.

"Yeah. He was their only child. It's gonna be….." The look on Silas' face said what he couldn't utter out loud.

"Sergeant, I'm…I'm really sorry for your loss, sir."

Silas was silent for several minutes before saying, "Get some sleep, and try to eat something, too..…and don't call me 'sir'.

Angel nodded and began to lift himself up from the sand.

"Angel….."

Angel turned back around to see Silas blushing deeply.

"…Thanks." he said quickly and turned back towards his post, shaking his head as if doing so would erase his words and actions.

Lieutenant Hunter sat by himself, wearing a look on his face that matched that of a pouting child, and if anyone had remotely looked in his direction, they'd have seen him kick the small brush and the ALICE pack in front of him several times, clearly having the equivalent of a two year olds temper tantrum.

He stretched his long legs out before him and sat with his arms folded on his chest, playing over in his mind the way the mission was supposed to go down. He'd been close to tears when Baron informed him that the raid on Barak had been quashed; he'd even attempted to get his C.O to reconsider, but no, he was told. Those were his orders and they'd come from much higher up in the food chain then he did.

Higher up. He thought over that bit of information and visibly slumped, because he knew that the orders could only have come from General Downer, and he was now well and truly in the shit. Despite the fact that Downer had given him the mission, he knew the man hated him. The man insulted him at ever turn. In fact, the General's last comment to him, before sending him to his current assignment, was that despite all his education, he believed if Hunter were any stupider, he'd have to be watered twice a week!

In fact, the man was constantly telling him how stupid he was! Why just last Thanksgiving in the middle of dinner, he'd commented that he found it hard to believe he'd beat out 1,000,000 other sperm! Of course Downer's daughter had been mortified and came to his aid, but one would think that after ten years of marriage, his father-in-law would at least _try _to accept him!

He slumped down even further in the sand. He'd never hear the end of this one.

Facing the opposite way, weapon trained on the small sparse stands of brush, Esmerelda "doublewide" del Rio's lips were moving in a silent prayer.

Tariq had been watching out of the corner of his eye but didn't interrupt her. He lifted the packet of freeze dried coffee crystals to his lips and emptied it into his mouth, then stuck the empty packaging into his pack.

Doublewide's 'amen' was audible, but soft.

"Hey," Tariq says equally soft, "We're gonna get outta here okay? Don't worry."

"Huh?" the woman next to him asks.

'You were praying," Tariq said nodding his head towards her.

"I wasn't praying for us," she said sheepishly.

Nisseri laughs." Why? You don't think we need it?"

"I was praying for Dim." She said softly. " I figure wherever he is, he's out there alone, and maybe he's …well, at least we're all together, but maybe he's feeling scared and alone…I was just asking God to watch over him till we can get there."

Her Squad mate nodded. "yeah, it's a good thing to pray for. I got a good feeling about Dim, ya know? That he's okay I mean."

"Yeah, as long as he keeps his big mouth closed and doesn't correct the isurgents!"

Both laugh. "Yeah, he's a pain in the ass with that, but I have a feeling from something he told me once, that its just the way it was for him growing up,you know? I mean both of his parents are doctors, they're both extremely intelligent.

I have a feeling that he had to be smart just so they'd know he was even there." Tariq said.

Doublewide shook her head. " I don't ever want to do that to my kid," she commented. "Spooky can be what ever he wants to be, as long as he's happy."

"That's all I'd want for my kid." Nasseri replied. "Hey, by the way, what's Spooky's real name? "

"It's-"

A loud whistling sound filled the air.

"INCOMING! TAKE COVER!" Silas screamed.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Back To Barak, Chapter Eight

Author: Rocketpowerpack

Rating: NC-17

Date: February 22, 2006

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.

Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and while not overly graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort.Please read at your own risk.

A/N reminder that this story takes place between Episode 12 "Suicide Rain" and Episode 13 "Follow the money"

* * *

"Colonel, permission to speak freely, sir…" Baron began

" Oh, Sheezus, James, just tell me what's on your mind," Colonel Casper Ryan, replied from his position in Baron's chair, stretching his legs in front of him and placing his highly polished boots on the makeshift desk.

"In regards to Lieutenant Hunter, Colonel, is it true that General Downer hand-picked him for this mission because of a family relationship-"

"-You mean is it true that Hunters his son-in-law?" Ryan asked laughing loudly. "Close family relationship my ass! You better not let him hear that! But, oh yeah, it's true! Downer's probably hoping a mortar' will land on the guy and put him out of his and his daughter's misery! Last comment I heard the general make about Hunter, was when his daughter called to tell him he might be becoming a grandfather, and Downer says to her, 'Please, please, tell me its someone else's and not that horses ass you're married to!" More laughter. "He told her if he had his way, Hunter wouldn't be allowed to breed!" He slapped his leg and kept laughing.

Though maintaining a cool exterior, Baron was seething underneath. St Claire had gotten him some good solid information; information he now wished he did not possess when he considered his men who were stranded behind enemy lines.

Hunter had played part time soldier while at Georgetown University and did a little time playing weekend warrior in the Reserves, thinking he was a real soldier while the real soldiers were out fighting for a living. After Basic Training, and Officers Candidate school came a cushy assignment in D.C practicing law, most likely earned on strings pulled by his father-in-law, who undoubtedly did so to keep his only child, a daughter, happy. But wanting to get into the shit and do some real fighting, Downer again pulled some strings, placing him some place where he could do the least amount of harm and stay as far as fuck away from him as possible; there he was supposed to stay, until a paperwork glitch shipped him to his current billet.

He shook his head and looked up to find Ryan observing him carefully." So how'd you find out about that?" Ryan asked.

"I'd heard the rumor."

"Really? I've never heard it." Ryan asked peering closely at Baron. "That's your story and you're sticking with it, huh? Well, you got yourself a good source, James; I'll leave it at that. "

"You said speak freely so I intend to." Baron retorted. "They're my men out there and I lied to them, because I was lied to, sir! And I don't like lying to my men. And I don't like backing up a soldier who fucks up and then rides the coattails of a general to keep the smell of shit off him!"

"'I've had men come to me and ask that Hunter be reassigned, and I quickly remind them of their place, and that Lieutenant Hunter is an officer in the US ARMY; that he didn't get there by accident, when in all candor it seems as if-" He stopped himself before finishing the sentence and sat down heavily in the folding chair opposite Ryan.

"If I had to place bets on who might have found Lieutenant Hunter offensive, I'd bet on Sergeant Scream any day and twice on Sunday." Ryan commented. " Scream's a good soldier. He's respectful. He's respected by his men _and _well liked, which you know yourself isn't easy. So I'm glad he's the one out there with them."

Baron swallowed. "We're missing one."

"What! Who?" Ryan said bolting upright.

"Dumphy."

'The college kid? Tall, thin. Glasses? They call him..D…Dim?"

"Yeah. They think he's in the village. He and King went to try and rescue an injured soldier left in the field after Mallatucci's squad got killed. Insurgents came in and they think Dumphy might have hid under the truck."

"Aw fuck! Ryan said angrily, "No one told me that!" He jumped up from his chair and walked down the entire length of the tent and back. Baron looked at him strangely, and Ryan dropped his gaze to the floor. "I guess I better tell you Downer's solution to this whole mess then."

"Sir?"

"We'll be going in with the tanks and heavier artillery. We'll cover them with RPG's and small weapon fire. Once we get your crew out, we'll be calling in air support to bring in the Stingers. We're going to flatten that mother. There ain't going to be nothing left!"

* * *

It was sometime after noon; he could tell by the height of the sun in the sky because it was beating directly down on top of the small shed. He was sweating profusely but he didn't even consider taking off his B.D.U jacket, which contained his body armor. He sipped at the small amount of water he had left in his Camelbac. It wasn't just the heat of the day that was making him sweat, he was pretty sure he was running fever; the area around his left shoulder was red, very hot to the touch and very swollen, and it hurt like hell which was not a good thing. It could mean an infection and left untreated, it might result in-

He heard a scraping noise outside and got to his feet in a crouching position ready to spring on whatever was now, moving the rotted plank of wood covering the doorway. He had his M16 in his hand, finger cocked on the trigger, when in popped a dark head of curly hair. Dim took a deep breath and sighed, then shook his head and smiled. "You gotta be more careful kid! " The little boy simply smiled and carefully placed the basket he'd been holding in front of him.

Dim peered into basket and reached in, taking out a large piece of cloth, which was warm and slightly moist; he sniffed the wrapped bundle and smiled before opening it and sniffing it again. The wrapped bundle was a large piece of thin flat bread, not unlike a pita; it was folded over and inside were chunks of meat and vegetables and it smelled heavenly. There was also a pouch, something like a wine skin that was filled with cool cold water.

Dim placed both items back into the basket. "Thank You. I mean… Shukran."

The boy smiled back and nodded, then looked concerned as Dim's face fell. Being here with the obviously kind child, whose heart had yet to be destroyed by war and hatred, made him think of Eddie, who undoubtedly would have done the same thing for a stranger, no matter who they were.

He looked up at the boy and said, "You remind me of my stepson, Eddie." He reached into a pocket of his B.D.U jacket and removed two pictures….one of Vanessa and one of her son. He reached over and handed the picture to the other boy, pointed to the picture. Placing his hand palm down on his chest, he said, "My son. Eddie. He's seven years old." He thought for a moment. "I don't remember how to say seven…

um…" He raised both hands to show seven fingers, then bent each one forward to count," one two three four five six seven."

"Ah, Saba'a!" the boy called out excitedly. He held up both of his hands in turn and

and said, "Ashra! Wahid, Itnan, Talatha, Arb'a, Khamsa, Sitta, Saba'a, Tamanya, Tisa, **Ashra**! "proceeding to show Dim how to count in his language. He then pointed to himself. _" Ismi Dawud."_

Not to be outdone Dim pointed to himself and said, " Uh Iz…my Frank."

"Fraaa -nck"…Dawud said giggling.

"Hey, I didn't make fun of your name, you know!" Dim said laughing too. He suddenly had an idea; It was customary to say thank you for a gift by giving a small gift in return and grabbed his pack, looking for some pieces of candy that the soldiers usually had on hand to give out to the children when traveling thru these small villages. He pulled out several items, and placed them on the ground, trying to reach the bottom of the pack. He pulled out another item and saw Dawud looking curiously at the Ipod sitting on the pile. He picked it up. "Its music" Dim said. "Hmmm. How do I explain music? La la la la la …….." he began singing, making the child giggle.

Dim picked up the Ipod and flicked the 'on' button. Through the attached ear phones he could hear the sound of Pavarotti….He nodded and pantomimed a big man with a large stomach, singing, "Figaro, Figaro, Figaro…Opera….Uh, Op-A –RA, OP A RA….No? " he asked, shaking his head, when the child kept laughing.

"Okay let's try this."

Dim carefully placed the headphones on the boys head, adjusted the volume, then pressed 'play' and Dawud gasped loudly; for a moment Dim thought the volume was too much for the boy, but it wasn't. He watched the child's' face light up as the sound of Puccini's' ' Nessun Dorma' came to life courtesy of Luciano Pavarotti; his head cocked to the side, he drew breath deeply in his chest and the look on his face, was like that of a blind man, who had seen a sunset for the first time.

After a the aria finished, Dawud took the headphones from his ears and handed the Ipod back to Dim, who shook his head and handed it back." You keep it. For you." He pointed to the basket. "To say thank you. _Shukran." _

But theboy shook his head and smiled. "Shukran Fraaa nck". He then carefully picked up the now empty basket and slipped out the door.

* * *

Eddie was sitting at the kitchen table, enthusiastically coloring a picture in his large drawing pad with the colored pencils that Vanessa had bought for him in the PX several days ago. While they'd been shopping he'd seen and admired a beginners artist set, that included paints, brushes, drawing and painting paper, and pastels as well and his mother had commented that if he showed some skill with the pencils perhaps she'd keep the kit in mind when his birthday came around in a few weeks.

It was nice having his mommy around more often. She wasn't sick and tired in the morning and didn't yell at him so much, although she had been very sad and sick when the baby had died, and he was sad about that too, because he had been practicing really hard to be a big brother like Frank had said he should.

He placed his chin down on the table and sighed. He really missed Frank; he missed playing ball with him and watching television and listening to music. Frank was going to teach him to play chess, but then he had to go away to Iraq. He didn't like Frank being in Iraq; he had friends whose mommies and dads came home from Iraq hurt really bad and some that didn't come home at all, because they had died "over there". He couldn't understand why anyone would want to shoot at Frank, because Frank was a nice guy.

He picked his head up and started coloring again. He was drawing a picture of their house, and drew himself and his mommy in front of it, waving . Mommy was going to mail it to Frank tomorrow. He hoped Frank hadn't forgot about them.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Back To Barak, Chapter One

Date: February 28, 2006

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.

Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and while not overly graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

"What the hell are they shooting at?" Hunter bellowed loudly as he ran toward the rest of the squad and dived to the ground, as a mortar round landed approximately one hundred feet in front of the small hill the squad was hiding behind. He landed beside Scream and half on top of Tariq, who discretely elbowed him hard in the solar plexus, causing Hunter to cough several times. He then unceremoniously shoved Hunter off.

"I asked you a question Sergeant! Why are they shooting at us?" Hunter demanded.

"It's a game called war, sir" Tariq responded. "They shoot at us, we shoot at them."

"Yeah," Smoke joined in." And if you're us, and your shit outta luck with no weapons and some little dick hill to hide behind, you usually lose!"

"Who asked you?" Hunter said in a voice like a small child taunting another child on the playground." Another mortar landed in front of the small hill.

"Oh, god, shut the hell up, children!" Mrs. B yelled.

"Sarge! They're getting closer!" Doublewide yelled, before another mortar landed almost exactly where the last one had." We gotta get outta here! Their gonna kill us!"

Scream turned towards Hunter, who was staring at the spot where the last mortar had landed, a look of utter disbelief on his face, as though he was shocked that the enemy dared to fire upon them. Christ! This guy was gonna be of no use to them, as usual.

He looked behind him verifying that there was no available cover for almost a thousand yards; but if they stayed where they were, cover or not, they were finished. Who ever was spotting for the insurgents, knew where they were, and were getting closer to them with every round they fired.

"Alright, listen up! "Silas screamed. "They know where we are, so we have to move and move quickly in that direction," he said pointing. "Get your gear on and get ready to move on my word!" Immediately the squad began stowing away items, sealing up their packs, and crouched waiting for further orders.

"Move where, Sergeant?" Hunter demanded. "There's no place to go, this is the only cover, damn it! "

"We can't stay here sir, they-"

"We have to stay here, Sergeant! We need to be here to assist with the-" Hunter ducked as another mortar exploded to the left of them, sending sand flying."-the reinforcements."

"Reinforcements? Sir, we stay here we're sitting ducks! We wouldn't last long enough to be rescued!"

"I'm in charge Sergeant, and I said we are not leaving here! We'll need to be here when reinforcements arrive-"

Silas shouted. A sound caught his attention, and he screamed, "RPG! Get down!"

There was a loud solid sounding Whooompfffffft in front of them.

Silas, knowing what that particular sound meant, jumped up, and began screaming, "GET UP! GET OUT OF HERE NOW! Get THE HELL OUTTA HERE!" as he realized that the grenade had embedded itself inside the soil of the hill they'd been using as cover. He turned around as he was screaming and noticed Hunter standing there, a confused expression on his face. He grabbed the back of the lieutenants BDU jacket, pulling him away from the hill, then gave him a hard shove. Silas was just about to follow him when the RPG exploded, raining down a storm of soil, sand, rock, and debris.

* * *

Dim lay on the floor of the little shed, his BDU jacket wrapped around him as tightly as possible, but he was still freezing, and occasionally his teeth would chatter. The pain in his shoulder that had once simply been sore and sensitive, now throbbed as though it had a life of its own and was so hot, that it felt as though it was on fire.

He'd eaten a little bit of what Dawud had brought him, more excited by the smell of it, then the taste; it wasn't that it hadn't tasted good, but he just didn't seem to have much of an appetite. He felt warm and tired-out even though he hadn't expended much energy during his visit with the boy. He curled up on the floor behind the bales of straw and using his closed up his pack for a pillow, he tried to rest and eventually feel back to sleep, only awakening when he felt someone touch him gently on the arm.

His eyes opened and his heart dropped down to his stomach in fear, until he realized that it was later in the afternoon and the boy had returned. He held another bucket of water in one hand and another small bowl of corn. This time the chickens had become bolder and Dim saw two of them pecking the ground near his feet. Dawud followed his line of site and quickly herded the chickens back outside. He came back and looked at Dim, then gently touched the other mans forehead, which was damp with sweat, but hot to the touch.

"Oh!" Dawud said and then in arabic, "You are sick and have a high fever. Rest. I will be back." He motioned for Dim to stay where he was and left quickly, returning perhaps twenty minutes later with a small towel, a soft square of rough fabric that resembled a wash cloth, more water in the bucket and some cooler water in another wineskin bag. The little boy gave him some water, then wet the rough cloth and soaked it in the bucket, wringing it out before gently dabbing it against Dims, forehead, face, neck and the back of his neck then repeating this twice more.

"Shukran, "Dim croaked out, his throat sore and dry. He sipped a bit more water.

Dawud nodded and picked up the wineskin of water, holding it to Dim's lips, and tilting it just slightly so the water slid down easily, but not fast enough to choke.

He soaked the cloth again, but only wrung it out a bit and placed it folded on Dim's head. He moved the skin of water close to the man and then helped him lie back down. Once he saw Dim was as comfortable as he could be, he picked up his bucket and walked toward the doorway.

Stopping briefly before he slipped out, he turned around and said with a smile. "Ah beee bah-k soo-un, Fraa-nck."

* * *

"Oh, God! Is he dead?" Mrs. B asked softly, a few tears glistening inher eye.

The entire squad sat huddled in a circle around Silas's body.

Once the sand and debris had cleared, the rest of the squad realized that Silas was not among them and immediately tried to locate their sergeant. Smoke, Angel and Tariq grabbed their weapons and over Hunters objections and ran back to where the small hill had once been, the ground now flattened and looking like a moon crater.

At first they froze when they saw him lying on his side on the ground ahead of them, but were spurred into action as mortar fire began anew. Each grabbing a handful of his jacket, they slowly and carefully, crawling on there knees, began to drag his body back to where the rest of the squad and Hunter waited. Twice they had to duck mortar fire and both times Smoke had thrown his body over Silas to protect him.

Doublewide slipped a scarf folded several times over, beneath his head, as Tariq removed a soft cloth from the first aid kit that had been in their Humvey. He dampened the cloth and carefully wiped the dried blood from several scratches on Silas's chin and cheek, and then carefully wiped his face hoping the cool water might revive him.

"Oh, God! Is he dead?" Mrs. B asked softly, a few tears glistening in her eye.

The entire squad sat huddled in a circle around Silas's body, as Angel checked for a carotid pulse, checked his respirations, and lifted his eye lids. "I think he just got knocked out," Angel replied. "He's breathing okay, his pulse is strong. We're gonna have to watch him though. And we probably shouldn't move him again if we don't have to. He could have an injury we can't see. The sooner we get him out of here, the better."

Hunter stood alone behind them. Not that he wanted to be a part of the circle sitting around the sergeant, but knowing full well that had he attempted to kneel down and be a part of their group, one of them might certainly kill him. It was always like that. They hated him. They always hated him, no matter where he was assigned, they hated him. It was jealousy, of course; they had no idea what it took to command a unit, to make hard decisions that sometimes seemed harsh and cruel.

He shook his head. He had to be the tough one, he had to-

A softly spoken "Amen", from Angel, and several like responses roused him from his delusional thinking.

"If you're done with the church service," Hunter said sarcastically," I'm ready to go over our plan of attack. Since the sergeant is, well, non compus mentis, I guess I'll just have to explain it myself."

Smoke stood up quickly and angrily asked." What you jus' call him?" Tariq quickly stood up and placed a hand on Smokes upper arm.

"I'm not surprised someone of your educational background, wouldn't understand that, Private Williams," Hunter commented haughtily. " Or should I just say 'background'?"

"Now that sounded like a racial slur to me!" Del Rio commented, as she stood up and folded her arms on her chest. She didn't have a hateful bone in her body but she'd love to have Hunter put thru the ringer and pay him back for what he'd done to her some time ago.

"Me, too." Angel responded also standing.

"And me, _three_." Mrs. B. drawled an unmistakable look of anger in her eyes.

"I suggest you all stand down immediately-"

Silas's radio crackled with life inside its holder on Tariq shoulder. He quickly unslung the small pack and held it in his arms. Before he could grab the unit, Hunter had snatched it from him.

"Rawhide one, do you copy, this is base. Over. Come in rawhide one."

"This is Lieutenant Hunter! Who is this!" He replied rudely.

"Welllll, Lieutenant Hunter. This is Colonel Ryan." Ryan said in a playful voice which quickly turned to anger. "Boy, I don't know how you fucked this up, but I will say this for you; when you do a job, you sure make sure it's a total fucking mess, don't you! How the hell-"

Hunter quickly placed his hand over the speaker portion, turning red with embarrassment and walked away from the squad to complete the 'discussion', while the rest of the squad struggled to keep from laughing.

A loud groan made them forget about Hunters public humiliation. They turned to see Silas sitting up and holding his head tightly.

"Wha' the hell happened?" Silas asked still a bit shaken.

"The RPG that landed where we were covering exploded, and you got thrown trying to get out of there." Tariq said. "It knocked you out."

Silas blinked several times, and then asked, "Everyone else okay?"

"Yeah. Well, 'cept for Underpants. He's over there getting yelled at by Colonel Ryan for screwing things up." Smoke said with a smile.

"Yeah, sorry I missed it." Silas said curtly.

"Well, sergeant, just in time to hear the news." Hunter snapped.

"What news would that be, sir?" Silas asked trying to get to his feet; he was still a bit rattled and Tariq righted him with a slight hold on hisarm.

"You'll be happy to know that the reconnaissance team is on its way. We should be out of here by night fall. "

"Good."

"Yes, it is good, "Hunter replied with a mean smile on his face." Colonel Ryan informed me that as soon as we're out of harms way they'll be bringing in Stinger missiles and leveling the place."

Silas could hear Mrs. B. gasp and Angel ask," What about Dim?"

"Shhh!" The sergeant said. "Lieutenant, Captain Baron assured me that we would have assistance in trying to rescue Private Dumphy, Sir. If he's left in Barak without us trying-" Silas gave Hunter a hard look and shook his head. "We don't leave our men behind, Sir! We need to go in there, now."

"If you think for one minute sergeant, that I am going to risk my neck for some jerk who got himself captured-"

Esmerelda Del Rio was now furious. "Porqué usted cerdo racist ignorante de mentira de auto-absorción bajo-abajo¡Cómo el atrevimiento usted dice eso cuando ahorramos su asno apesadumbrado veinte veces desde esta esperanza del started! I de la pesadilla las tierras de un mortero en su cabeza! "

Six heads quickly spun in her direction as she quickly gave her opinion in her adopted tongue, then turned around and stomped off, so angrily she could barely walk or see straight!

"What did she just say to me?" Hunter demanded. When no answer was forthcoming, he turned and said, "Private Nisseri ! I want to know what she said to me this minute!"

"Yeah, well, sorry, sir, I don't speak pissed-off." Tariq replied with a look that told Hunter he was clearly crazy and went off to look after Del Rio.

Hunter watched him walk off and quickly turned towards Mrs. B. "You! You there, blondie! What did she say to me?"

"We-ll" Mrs. B drawled, "Ah think she was commenting on that lil racist slur you made earlier….which bah the way, I intend to make sure that little ole 'blondie' reference you just made, gets into her report, too, sir." She then left with Smoke and Angel right behind her.

Silas stood simply standing there shaking his head as Hunter stared at him in silence.

"I have no idea what she said," Scream said. "But I don't think they like the idea of you leaving Dumphy in the village to get killed, sir. It's a matter of honor. We don't leave our men behind," Scream continued, his voice getting louder with every syllable." Especially after they may have fallen into harms way while rescuing another soldier. We need to get in there before the recon team gets here, sir!"

"I'm not stopping you, Sergeant, "Hunter replied giving Silas a strange little smile. "You and your people go right ahead. "


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Back To Barak, Chapter Ten

Date: March 12, 2006

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was writtenfor personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.

Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and while not overly graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

"I'm not stopping you, Sergeant. You and your people go right ahead. "Hunter had replied, before turning around and duck-walking back behind one of the small groups of trees in the low depression, which now served as the squads' only cover.

Silas watched him go. This was one incompetent, impotent, mean-spirited, crazy, bastard. How he'd risen to the rank of lieutenant was amazing. How he'd survived this long in the Army without one of his own men killing him, was a fucking miracle!

Shaking his head, Silas crouched as low to the ground as possible and joined his squad huddled behind a slightly larger stand of withered looking trees. "Alright, listen up!" He snapped. "I know exactly what you're all thinking, so put that shit aside for now! If we're going to risk going in and finding Dim, we gotta do it now, before Recon shows up and blasts this place back to the goddamned stone-age!" He watched as the members of his fire team nodded. "Tariq, Angel, you're coming with me. Hunter says Recon will be here by night fall but my personal opinion is it's going to be a few hours before we see shit! It's going to be getting dark soon so we'll try and use that to our advantage. "

He reached into his BDU jacket and pulled out a map which he opened and placed on the ground in front of them. "If this map's still accurate, if we follow this side of the road a coupla clicks we should come to a swamp area that empties into a small stream by the bridge, "he said, using his finger to trace the path." That's how we'll get in. Now there's likely to be guards posted, so we'll probably be looking for away to go under, not over. Once we find Dim, we'll come out the same way, and re-join you all back here and hopefully our backup will have arrived."

He turned to the three remaining members of the squad. "Smoke, we're going need your fire power here to keep this area clear for our support troops to move in. Mrs. B., Doublewide, you're going help him do that."

"Got it Sarge." Smoke said.

"It's highly probable that we'll lose radio contact with you," Silas continued. "Under no condition are any of you to risk your sorry-ass, useless lives trying to get into the town while it's under fire. Am I understood?" Silas shouted." If we're not back by the time Recon gets here, you'll advise them of our exit position and make sure they put a coupla bodies there in case we come back with a few hundred crazy insurgents on our backs."

"And you," he growled staring Mrs. B. down, " I know there aren't any available Humvees or walls for you to drive thru, but no crazy stunts! Or you'll walk back to the base with my foot planted in your ass every step of the way!"

"Yes, sir." Mrs. B. replied.

"Don't call me sir! Just stay down and don't get dead!" He turned his head. "Tariq, Angel! Let's move!"

* * *

He didn't know what time it was, but he could tell thru his glazed eyes that the sun was no longer beating down on the roof of the small, rickety shed he'd been hiding in, for the last two days. Or had it been three days? Something told him that it was important that he know exactly how long he had been there, but another part of him simply didn't have the energy to pursue the thought.

He was still sweating profusely. The boy had come back briefly, a third time, to bring him some water, and had helped him remove the BDU jacket that was almost soaked with perspiration. He'd covered the man with a small woven blanket, and placed the jacket on top to keep him warm and dry.

He sipped at the small amount of water he had left in his Camelbak, which was now lukewarm; it didn't do much to quench his thirst but it helped to soothe his throat, which was now as parched as the Sahara. But the pain from his throat was only an annoyance compared with the intense heat that radiated from his shoulder; enough heat to warm a small Iraqi village, he supposed.

He giggled weakly at his own joke, then damned himself for the small body movement the laugh had caused, as a sharp pain that could only be likened to being sliced with a knife, shot thru his body. His shoulder began to throb with a steady rhythm of its own, and he had to fight back the wave of nausea that came swiftly on its heels. He bit down on the sleeve of his jacket until his jaw ached and began to breathe furiously thru his nose to keep from crying out in agony. His head felt heavy and suddenly the entire shed seemed to be spinning. The acid in his stomach began to rise. Unable to hold back the inevitable, he rolled over, turning his head to the side, and threw up. He continued to gag for several minutes, before managing to roll onto his back once more. Tears, burning his skin, as though composed of acid, slid down his face and he began to weep, but not before stuffing the sleeve of his jacket back in his mouth.

Down by his feet he heard a short rapping sound and looked down to find that one of the emaciated chickens had wandered back into the shed, perhaps recalling in its tiny brain that a scrap of food had once been found there. The chicken pecked along the ground, weaving from side to side but its search was in vain. It stood still for several moments, its neck working back and forth and then, began to peck rapidly on the toe of his left boot. He kicked his leg out and the chicken jumped up, flapping its wings in anger and squawked loudly, before starting to peck at the boot once more.

Forcing himself to sit up, the open wound on his shoulder burning as though someone had doused him with gasoline and lit a match, he kicked out with his other foot. The chicken jumped up again, landing on his lower leg and began to peck furiously, its beak like the point of an awl. He yelped and tried to backhand the chicken, but it only flapped its wings harder and jumped onto his thigh. He tried to kick his legs in an effort to dislodge the angered fowl, but his legs were heavy and leaden. He slapped at the bird with his hands, connecting with it twice, but his attempts were feeble, and only served to enrage the chicken even more.

Again the chicken rose upward and this time landed directly on his crotch, and he gasped as the sharp clawed feet gripped his BDU trousers but failed to break thru the fabric. This time he did cry out, not in pain, but in anger. Enraged, he leaned forward and grabbed at the chicken, catching it around its scrawny neck, earning him several quick pecks to his right hand. The bird was squawking loudly, flapping its wings, feathers flying this way and that. He tightened his grip and with a quick motion of his hands, he snapped the chickens' neck, killing it instantly.

Panting and gasping for breath, he hurled the chicken into the air where it landed behind a few rotted boards on the opposite side of the shed. He dropped his chin on his chest and closed his eyes, shaking his head sadly.

His head came back up when he heard the sound of gunfire in the distance, followed by the sound of several men yelling in Arabic. Thru the cracks between the wall boards he could see several of them run past the dilapidated shed, and saw one man stop, hesitating just outside the door. He forced himself up on his feet, crouching as far back in the dark corner as he could, and raised his rifle towards the door……..

* * *

The convoy slowed just before the road leading into Barak, as ordered by Colonel Ryan, from his seat in an armored vehicle, sporting a mounted M60 machine gun, up top. The vehicle its self was equipped with armor on the sides and underneath to protect the crew from small arms ammunition and mines. Behind his vehicle sat three more armored vehicles, one carrying an MK19 grenade launcher, the others, an M2 machine gun each. Several vehicles behind those were two M6 "Linebackers"; sixty ton tanks meant for air defense, each equipped with a four-tube Stinger missile system. The convoy was rounded out by two additional Bradleys up front and a M998 troop carrier. A medivac helicopter was awaiting co-ordinates if necessary. Colonel Ryan was _not _'dicking around'.

"Listen up people!" he shouted into the microphone of his headset." No fuck-ups!

The tanks move in first and plow the way for the rest of us. No one fires until I give the word! Lapus! "

"Yes, sir Colonel!" Lieutenant Lapus responded briskly from his vehicle.

"You make sure your people haul ass out of that truck and get behind that first berm lickety-fucking-split! Hunter and his folks will be moving forward to rendezvous with your team."

"Yes sir, Colonel!"

"One we get down the road and do some house cleaning, we'll proceed forward into the village. Once that's done the Stingers will bat clean-up. We stick to the plan, we're in and out in a few hours! Understood?"

Several voices answered in the affirmative.

"Fucking outstanding! Now let's go kick some insurgent ass!"

* * *

Silas, Angel, and Tariq slowly made their way down road toward the bridge but the first few thousand yards proved to be slow going; there was a bit more cover to be found here in the way of scrub and brush, but in between them there was nothing but open flat land and they'd had to move one man at a time. Eventually the ground sloped back, giving them enough cover to make it to the 'swamp' that flowed under the bridge and into the tiny village just as it had turned dark.

"Nice swamp," Angel commented as he looked out from behind a water deprived bush at the circular depression of water that was composed mainly of dirty run-off from the roadway left when it had last rained. The water was only calf height and there was no sign of any life was, except for a few scraggly plants, which had managed to take hold in the dank, dark, smelly water.

"What were you expecting?" Tariq asked.

"I don't know," Angel said, "But this ain't no swamp."

"Smells like a swamp." Silas said shrugging off his pack and reaching into it for the last of his ammo.

"It smells like Detroit."

"Well, just think of home as your wading thru it. " Silas commented, and began to loosen his boot laces and tuck the hem of his trousers snugly inside it. When he realized the other two men had made no move to copy him, he turned his head to see them both staring at him. "What!" he snapped. "You got a better idea? I don't see any goddamned rowboats, do you?"

Shaking their heads the other two men followed suit and started around the perimeter of the 'swamp', the bottom of which was rather mucky, making it impossible to walk thru without stopping to pull one foot up above the brackish water before placing it down again, slowing down their progress. They were still several feet from the bridge when they heard the sound of machine gun fire, followed by a volley of tank fire coming from the direction they had just left. Almost immediately activity could be heard from the area above them on the bridge.

"Shit! Let's go! Move it before they spot us!" Silas hissed, pushing himself thru the mire, with Angel on his tail.

Suddenly there was a loud splash from behind them.

"What the-?" Silas said, turning around quickly, his rifle ready in hand, to see Tariq lying in the murky water. "Goddamn it, Tariq, get up!"

"My foot's stuck on something," he replied, turning over onto his butt and trying to pull his foot free. "Son of a bitch" he yelled, tugging once, twice more.

Angel turned to help but Silas pushed him back in the direction of the bridge. "Get going! Anything happens to us, you go get Dim the fuck outta there!"

"Sarge-"

"Goddamn it, that's a direct order, Angel! "Silas shouted as he tried to get to where Tariq lay, desperately trying to free himself. Up above them several large military vehicles were speeding across the bridge and heading down the road to meet the arriving troops.

Below the bridge, Angel had turned back and began to push his way thru the muck as ordered, making it beneath bridge where he watched as Silas and Tariq both struggled to pull his leg free.

"Goddamn it!" Silas yelled, luckily unheard above the noise of machine gun fire and exploding mortars. He reached under Tariq's knee and yanked hard, dislodging the trapped foot, but landing on his ass in the water as well.

"Thanks Sergeant-" Tariq began

"Save it!" Silas yelled, pulling at the wet trousers hugging his skin. " Just move your ass!"


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Back To Barak, Chapter Eleven

Date: March 12, 2006

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.

Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and while not overly graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

Ma'assalama Goodbye 

Masha'allah It is G-ds Will

Feyn, um Om? Ab? Where is your Mother and Father?

Feyn manzil Where is your home?

* * *

Crouching as far back into the dark corner as he could, Dim raised his rifle towards the door just as a glove-covered hand reached into the opening and began to push the board across the door inward where it fell with a loud clatter. He clamped his teeth tightly together, and tried to stay completely still, despite the nausea and pain that coursed thru his body as he tried not to fall on his ass. Though not a praying man, he began to pray in earnest as the muzzle of an AK47 rifle became visible in the doorway, and was followed a moment later, by a man dressed in a long dark shirt, cotton pants, and a ski mask over his face. He turned to his right and jumped back in surprise when he saw Dim crouched in the corner with his rifle trained on him. 

For all of a minute the two men stared at each other, and then the Iraqi laughed heartily. "Ma'assalama A-merik-can Infidel! he said bringing his rifle up, preparing to shoot. "Masha'allah"!

The shot reverberated loudly in the small wooden shed; Dim was conscious of a loud high pitched ringing in his ears. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as his legs buckled beneath him and he fell backward onto the ground, hand pressed against his chest and his eyes wide open in pain and shock. He stared for several minutes, then gasped as the Iraqi fell forward and lay unmoving on the floor. His entire body began to shake and a wave of nausea so powerful swept over him it caused him to vomit again.

He heard the sound of footsteps on the ground out side and tried to get back up, raising his rifle for a second time. He was just about to shoot when a small voice called out "Fran-ck?" and the little boy burst into the shed and immediately jumped back in fear as he saw the weapon in Dim's hands.

"No! no…..Its okay!" Dim panted, lowering his weapon, and collapsing back ion the floor. He face was soaked with sweat and his entire body continued to shake.

Outside the shed the sound of machine gun fire and automatic rifle fire had gotten louder and mingled with the sound of exploding grenades and mortar in the distance. The rescue team must be making there way into the village, he thought, and soon it would be impossible to escape. He turned his attention back to the boy, who was now staring at the dead man lying on the floor, his eyes closed, reciting a brief silent prayer.

"Dawud," Dim whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to kill him, but…" Hell, he thought. What do you say to a kid? How do you justify killing to a child? What would he tell Eddie? He sighed. "Dawud, if I hadn't shot him, he would have killed me. I wish I didn't have to do that."

Dawud nodded solemnly.

"I have to get out of here…get back to my squad, "he began as he tried to stand up and stumbled, landing on one of the bales of hay. When he tried to stand a second time, the boy came over and took his arm, steering him towards the doorway. He raised his good arm and leaned it against the wall just inside the doorway to steady him; he could see women and children screaming and crying as they scurried from their small homes taking only what they could carry in their hands or in small carts that they pushed ahead of them.

He looked down at the boy. "Where is your family? You should go to them, they'll worry about you." He racked his brain to find the words in Arabic. "Uh…_Feyn, um Om? Ab?"_ The boy shook his head. "No? Mother or father? What about your home? Where is your home? "_Feyn_ manzil.? He asked, using his hands to draw the shape of a roof and a house.

No." the boy said shaking his head slowly.

"I can't just leave you here, "he began, when he was interrupted by a sudden loud explosion in the village that made the boy gasp in fear. Grabbing the child by the hand, he pulled him out of the shed; they'd only taken a few steps Dim's body finally gave out and he fell to the ground with a loud thump. The boy quickly hooked his arms beneath Dim's armpits, dragging and tugging him behind the shed, as best he could.

* * *

Back on the road to Barak Smoke, Hunter, Doublewide, and Mrs. B had rendezvoused with Lieutenant Lapus's unit. The tanks had taken out several Iraqi vehicles and were proceeding towards the bridge, sweeping the area of any hostile forces, while the soldiers kept the Iraqi rebels on the road, pinned down. 

Meanwhile, Silas, Angel, and Tariq had made it under the bridge without being spotted, and in all the confusion had been able to surface on the other side of the bridge and take cover behind some low lying shrubs.

"Shit!" Silas growled. "Not much cover here!" He shook his head. "Tariq? Angel? Where the hell would you go?"

Tariq got a thoughtful look on his face and titled his head. "I'd stay away from where people would congregate, so I wouldn't be following that dirt path. "

"Definitely "Angel said. " I'd look for some place to lay low for awhile, away from every body else, especially if I've been hurt, and he's gotta be hurting' Sarge."

Silas nodded. "Same here. He reached up and lowered his NVG, signaling for his men to do the same and follow him.

When they reached another small low lying patch of brush, all three men flopped down onto their stomachs behind it, trying to survey the area and figure out where their squad member would go. Around them the sound of automatic fire and small arms fire, could be heard in addition to the sound of the tanks slowly making there way toward the bridge. They weren't going to have much time that was for sure. Silas looked down at the withered plant in front of his face and peered closely at what looked suspiciously like a small torn piece of plastic wrapping from an MRE pouch. He picked up the wrapper and stared at it, then handed it to Angel. "What does that look like to you?"

"That's from an MRE," Angel replied, after a closer inspection.

"I think I found….raisins? And, uh…coconut." Tariq offered, picking up the small morsels from the ground and examining it. He got up on his knees and turned around facing the opposite way, looking at the ground behind them and saw a few more pieces of food. "Sergeant? I think it's a trail."

"A trail of what!" Silas asked?

"A trail of…I know it sounds dumb but I think its trail mix." Tariq replied.

"Dim hates the stuff." Angel replied. Then he began laughing!

"You think…? " Tariq asked.

Silas shook his head. "Only Dim…."

The three men turned around and began crawling on their hands and knees thru the

scrub brush, finally spotting the dilapidated shed a few hundred feet away.

"You think he's in there-" Angel began, only to be shushed by Silas.

"Somebody's heading this way!" Silas whispered, from behind another withered bush. "Stay down, and don't-"

"It's a kid, Sergeant! He's got something in his hand!" Tariq hissed loudly, grabbing his rifle and taking aim. Beside him, Angel had the boy in his sight and was prepared to fire.

"Tariq-!"

"Don pleez …don me Shhhhooott …," came a small soft voice, speaking in broken English.

"Tell him to put it down, Tariq! What ever he's got in his hand, tell him to put it down and step back, now!"

Tariq did so.

Dawud hesitated slightly and then placed the item he was carrying at his feet, then raising his hands to show they were empty, he stepped back a few paces.

"Angel! Keep him covered! Can you see what it is, Tariq?" Silas asked.

"No, not exactly Sargeant." He lifted his head and asked the boy, "What is that?

Is it a bomb? Answer, now!"

"Baahm? 'Eyh da Baahm?

"Bomb...boom! boom, psssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,Boom!" Tariq replied, pantomiming a bomb exploding.

The boy looked puzzled for a moment, as he tried to find the word his soldier friend had given it, then smiled and replied "La bahm ! Iz Moo-zik! Op-pa –rah! La la la la.. Fran-ck. Moozik!"

"Did he just say Frank's Music?" Scream shouted.

"I think so, sergeant." Tariq turned back to the boy. "Frank? Feyn Frank?"

Dawud pointed back towards the shed and began to speak excitedly in Arabic.

"Sergeant! He says Dim is sick, and fell down behind that little building over there."

"Do you believe him?"

"Shit, Sergeant….I think so."

"Should we believe him Tariq? Are you sure?" Silas yelled over the sound of approaching vehicles, probably the tanks. "I'm not getting my ass blown up because you think the kid _may not_ be lying!"

Tariq turned to look at the two men lying in the dirt beside him. Their lives were in his hands, his decision to believe the child could mean all of their of their lives. Suddenly, he had his answer. "Yes! Yes, I believe him. He knows Dim's real name that means Dim had to have told him." Tariq jumped up and went toward the boy, stopping to reach down and pick up the ipod from where the boy had placed it on the ground. "It's Dim's ipod! Show me!" He said, "Show me Frank! Then he turned back and yelled "It's Dim's" holding up the ipod.

The little boy quickly turned and ran towards the rickety building, Tariq on his heels, leaving a rather surprised Silas and Angel where they were on the ground.

Behind them the sound of exploding bombs and mortar lit up the night sky and became increasingly louder.

"Tariq! What the fuck are doing?" Silas shouted and both men quickly jumped up and followed him. A moment later they reached the shed and found Tariq and the boy kneeling next to Dim on the ground, shouting at him to wake up.

Angel handed his rifle to Silas and dropping down on one knee felt for a pulse at the side of Dim's throat. "He's got a pulse." He then pulled open Dim's jacket and making a fist, pressed his knuckles against the upper part of Dim's sternum, causing the man to groan and shy away from the pain.

Angel carefully moved aside Dim's jacket and tore the cotton T-shirt beneath.

He sucked in his breath loudly. "I knew he was hurt!" His squad mates looked over in his direction and then down at Dim's injured shoulder; the entire shoulder down to his collar bone was seriously inflamed, the wound was infected and suppurated.

Before either of the men could respond there was a loud 'Booming' sound, and the large building in the center of the village, exploded. The tanks had just crossed over the bridge. Dawud cried out in fear.

The reinforcements had arrived.

* * *

Meanwhile, back over the other side and several thousand feet before the bridge into Barak, Colonel Casper Ryan dismounted his vehicle and made his way over to where Lieutenant Lapus's squad had rounded up the Iraqi insurgents they'd caught trying to escape just before the tanks were getting ready to move in; twenty of them were now sitting in a huddle on the side of the road, hands flex-tied behind their backs and guarded by several members of the recon group. They were waiting for one of the trucks to come pick them up and then they would be delivered to the nearest military holding area until they could be transferred to an Iraqi prison. 

One hundred yards behind them, Smoke, Mrs. B, and Doublewide were enjoying the hospitality of Lieutenant Lapus's squad. They sat on the back of the truck, feet dangling as they drank cool, fresh bottled water and ate M.RE.'s, and thanked them profusely for the small towels they'd used to wash the sand and grit from their face and hands. Lieutenant Hunter was no where in site and they couldn't have cared less.

'So!" Boomed Colonel Ryan, steeping up to them "How you folks making out here?"

All three immediately sat up and Smoke, whose hand was free, saluted.

Ryan waved a hand at them. "As you were, people. We're going to get you back to the base as soon as we can. You'll all need to be checked out by the medics, and then you can all get some real shut-eye."

"Colonel, sir? Any word on the Sergeant and the rest of our team?" Doublewide asked.

"No word yet, private, but our troops are watching out for them, and if they can make it back towards the bridge we've got people standing by to help. I have a medivac on the way in case Private Dumphy or any one of them needs medical attention." Ryan said, finishing with a grin.

"Thank you, sir." Doublewide replied as Mrs. B and Smoke also voiced their appreciation.

"No thanks necessary. Your squad did a great job; you did what was expected of you and held tight in a shitty situation. I wish it had gone better for you, but sometimes we can't predict what's gonna be. I intend to make sure you all get put in for a commendation."

He turned around at the sound of a commotion behind him, which turned out to be Lieutenant Hunter, dressing down a poor hapless private, one of Lapus's squad; Lapus had just joined in the fray, and was admonishing Hunter ."As you were soldiers," Ryan said with a nod and proceeded over to Lieutenant Hunter. "A word with you Lieutenant?" Ryan boomed.

Hunter's face turned a whiter shade of pale as he saluted his superior officer. "Yes sir, Colonel," he replied and allowed himself to be pulled off to the opposite side of the road. Moments later Ryan could be seen invading Hunter's personal space as he proceeded to dress down the Lieutenant for _his _behavior.

Suddenly there was a loud 'boom' and the sky inside the village lit up as a large building was destroyed by grenade fire.

They all put down there M.R.E.'s. They'd lost their appetites.


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Back To Barak, Chapter Twelve - Conclusion

Date: March 13, 2006

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: When Lieutenant Hunter volunteers the squad to infiltrate and capture Iraqi insurgents, all hell breaks loose.

Warning: Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; these depictions may describe consequential injuries and death, and while not overly graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

Ma ismok?" What is your name

Hal tatakallumu l-inkliziyya Do you speak English?

Faini a little bit

Kayfa haluk? How are you?

Hazah mosh bikair! That's not nice!

Kefaya That's enough!

* * *

"Holy shit!" Tariq yelled as another building exploded.

"We gotta get out of here and now before they decide to knock down everything!

There's got to be a way out of here, a way to get to that bridge instead of walking right down Main Street." Silas said. He looked at the boy. "Tariq? Ask him if there's another way to the bridge from here."

Tariq turned to the boy "_Ma ismok?" _

"Dawud."

Tariq pointed to himself. "Ismy Tariq. Hal tatakallumu l-inkliziyya?"

"La…faini" The boy said. He spoke to him in Arabic for several minutes, and then turned to Silas. "He says the only way out is the way we came in, Sergeant."

"Well then we better go moving. We need to carry Dim out. We need to make a stretcher of some kind, a blanket, a piece of wood." Silas growled.

"Wooo-dh?" Dawud jumped up and quickly ran around into the shed, grabbing the board that had previously been lying across the doorway. He lifted it, though it was quite bulky for a boy his size and struggled to carry it back outside. Angel saw him first and grabbed the board placing it on the ground.

"Alright, everyone take a hold and let's get this under him." Silas said, grabbling hold of Dim. He and Tariq carefully slid both of their arms under Dim as Angel slide the board in place. They tried to be as gentle as possible but despite that, Dim woke up and groan in pain.

"It's okay Dim," Angel said, "we got you. You just gotta hold on and we'll get you out of here."

"You all ready to move out? "

"Yeah-"

"Dawud?" Dim asked. He raised his head, though the movement was agony, and saw the boy staring at him. "Take him with you," Dim gasped, letting his head fall back onto the board.

"Dim, we can't do that, regulations-"

"He saved my life," Dim whispered. "Take him with us. I can't leave him here. He has no family, he has no one here."

The tanks were moving along the dirt road, and a moment later another building exploded.

"Alright, just shut the hell up and let's worry about it after we get out of here,"

Silas yelled. "Angel, you go first and cover us, we'll be right behind you with Dim."

"Ready to go, Sergeant!" Angel responded, then jumped to his feet and peered around the shed. When the coast looked clear, he inclined his head and motioned for them to follow.

The area where they'd come into the village was devoid of people, but the terrain was rough going and Dim's body was jostled on the board with almost every step they took. They had made it to the brushy area before the bridge and didn't have much further to go when there was the sound of rifle fire; one bullet flew past Tariq's head and the other landed in the dirt behind Angel.

"Get down! " Silas screamed, and all three dropped behind him; on the makeshift stretcher, Dim cried out in pain. "Where the hell is that coming from" Silas asked? scanning the area behind them.

"I can't see anyone," Tariq replied

'Me either, Sarge, "Angel said. " Wait! He's right up there! He's on top of that truck by the bridge!"

The three mean looked up to see that Angel was indeed correct. A lone Iraqi was lying down on top of one of the stolen carrier trucks. From his vantage point, he was able to see everything that moved in the village.

Silas adjusted his icom on his head. " Rawhide Six, this is rawhide one, come in Rawhide six, over." He waited for a response and tried again. When none was forthcoming he grabbed the radio. "Rawhide Six this is Rawhide One, Over. We need assistance immediately! Over."

There was a loud burst of static. "Silas? That you?"

"Affirmative. Who is this? Over."

"This is Colonel Ryan, Sergeant! Good to hear from you! Can you give me your location? Over. "

Silas looked up at the sound of a helicopter over head. "Sir, we're not far from the bridge. Break. Problem is, we have a lone shooter on top of a truck in our way, and we can't get any close to the bridge. Over."

"Sounds like you need some help, sergeant. Well helps on the way. Give me a minute to get someone who can be of assistance. By the way, you find that Dumphy kid? Over."

"Yes, sir, we have him, but he's hurt pretty badly; he's gonna need to be medivac'd. Over."

"No problem! Just got here, ready as soon as you get across that bridge. Over."

A few minutes later they heard the sound of one of the tanks coming back down the road in their direction. The boy, who had pushed himself up to see the tank, was grabbed by Tariq, who gently pushed him back to the ground and shook his head. The tank stopped about five hundred feet from the bridge, and there was a whining sound as the grenade launcher rose to the correct height. The man on top of the truck realized what was about to happen, but he couldn't move faster enough. There was a loud whooshing sound as the grenade shot from the tank. A moment later there was an incredible explosion as the grenade reached its target and the truck exploded, sending pieces of camouflage painted truck everywhere.

Several minutes later two armored vehicles pulled onto the bridge, and had barely stopped moving when a medic and several soldiers dismounted. Silas, Angel, and Tariq picked up the wooded stretcher and carried Dim to the bridge, where it was decided that he needed to be immediately transported to the ARMY base hospital, by helicopter.

The other three men, dirty, tired, and covered in dust, crossed the bridge and were greeted by the rest of their squad. Colonel Ryan clapped Silas on the shoulder and praised them for a job well done.

* * *

"Why is this child here, Sergeant? He should be in flex-ties or been left behind like the other insurgents… or are you opening a nursery school?" Hunter laughed at his own wit, but no one laughed with him.

"He saved Private Dumphys' life sir. Brought him food, water, and made sure he stayed hidden. He came looking for us when he realized how injured and ill Dumphy was."

The boy looked at Hunter. He didn't know that much English, but he knew enough, to know the tall man was angry that Francks' friends brought him here. "Ismy Dawud," he said in an endearing voice. "Kayfa haluk?"

"Sorry kid! I don't speak gibberish! I speak English. You should try it sometime!" Hunter said nastily.

Dawud's eyes got rounder and with no warning, he kicked Hunter quite hard in the shin!

"La! Hazah mosh bikair!" Tariq said grabbing the boy and pulling him close, while Dawud watched Hunter hop on his foot and yell at the top of his lungs.

"What's going on here?" Ryan asked as each of the men turned and saluted.

He looked down at the boy who stood up straight and saluted as well, prompting Ryan to reach down and tussle the kids' hair. "Cute kid!"

Silas knew this was his chance. "Dawud saved Dumphy's life sir. Brought him water, food, kept him hidden, and then came to find us when Dim was too sick to move. I figure we owe him something."

Ryan got a thoughtful expression on his face. "Where's he gonna go?"

"I know the woman who runs the orphanage near the base. I'm sure she'll take him. I don't think he has any family."

"He doesn't" Angel replied and looked at Tariq. "Tell'em."

Tariq looked at Silas who inclined his head and at Ryan who nodded. "When we were talking before, he told me that he didn't come from this town. His parents owed a debt to the… well, I guess; call it the local mob boss. His parents couldn't repay the debt, so Dawud had to come work for him. Then his parents died and the boss told him that he'd automatically become his property. He wanted to run away but he couldn't risk shaming his family name, so he's been here, since. About 3 years."

"A ten year old child, a slave." Doublewide said, shaking her head.

"I told them that this is highly irregular, Colonel. We can't be responsible for every stray dog that runs wild in this dump and-"

"Geez Hunter! It's a kid for Christmas sake, not some anima- Sergeant? You have my permission to take the kid with you and find him a place in that orphanage!

"Thank you Sir!" Silas responded as did the rest of the squad, as Ryan walked away.

Hunter stepped right up into Silas's face. "Keep that kid out of my site Sergeant! You might think he's cute, but these Iraqi kids are just like there parents; he'd stab you as soon as- OWWW!"

Tariq grabbed the boy again. "La! Kefaya!"

"Sir?" Silas commented "Maybe you should stay out of _his _site?"

* * *

Twenty four hours later, Silas and his squad stood at attention in Captain Barons' tent.

"You're all aware, I believe, that Colonel Ryan has put each of you in for a commendation in recognition of your outstanding performance during this mission, and I also plan to do so. You did excellent work, and I'm proud of all of you."

"I want to make it clear to you, that despite the fact that the mission as originally intended was scrubbed, it is no reflection on any of you. You all pulled together as a team and did the job you had to do. I know none of it was easy. Our losses were great, especially in losing Sergeant Mallatucci's squad. I've asked battalion to send a few counselors to speak to any of you who wish to discuss _anything_ that happened or anything you're experiencing as a result of what happened in Barak."

Baron stopped there and leaned back against the make shift desk." I also personally wish to apologize to each of you for what happened, for not being able to get you the help you needed, when you needed it. In the future there will be no missions, exercises, or any action that involves my people, that I do not have a direct part in organizing or co-coordinating. "

"Permission to speak Sir?"

"Go ahead, Sergeant," Baron said.

"Sir, we do not, in any way blame you for what happened. I think I can speak for everyone here, when I say that we felt you were doing your best to get us the assistance we needed, but you weren't getting much assistance yourself." Baron watched as each member of squad nodded.

"Thank you, Sergeant." Baron stood up straight. "I received word not too long ago that Private Dumphy is up to receiving visitors. If you'd all like to take some time to visit, I'll give a call over and let them know your coming."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Well then, you're dismissed. " Baron announced, watching them file out in silence.

* * *

"So how long you in for Dimwit?" Smoke asked. They were all crowded around Dim's bed, laughing and joking, despite the evil looking nurse who kept giving them dirty looks.

"They said about another week. I'm on some heavy antibiotics, and stuff for the pain, but they said there's no real damage."

"That's good news," Silas said.

"Yeah," Dim responded. "They called home and scared Vanessa pretty bad."

"You want me to email her? Let her know we saw you and your okay?" Doublewide asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. That'd be nice, Doublewide… Thanks" he said before yawning.

"We should let you get some rest," Angel commented. "We'll come back tomorrow and check up on you."

One by one they all said their goodbyes and began to file out the door. Silas was almost out of the room when Dim called out, "Sergeant?"

Silas turned back around, and seeing the look on Dim's face, returned back to his bedside.

"Sergeant? How was Dawud when you brought him to the orphanage this afternoon? Was he scared?" Dim asked softly.

Silas moved his head from side to side thinking about the question. "He seemed okay, seemed excited to see all the other kids there. Sophie thinks she might know someone in the states that might want to adopt him."

"'Really?"

"Yeah. Uh, her sister's there and they can't have kids, so …they wanted a boy. Has to be better then being here."

"All I could think about when I saw him, was Eddie. You know, like if the situation were reversed….." he trailed off for a moment." I was scared, Sergeant. Really scared."

"We're all scared, Dim. It's a war. All we can do is do our job and not get killed."

"Yeah." Dim said.

"You did the right thing, Dim."

Dim nodded. "Thanks for taking him to Sophie…and thanks for looking out for him. I know Hunter gave you shit about him, but I knew you'd find him a safe place-"

" Yeah. Sure. "Silas said getting a bit red in the face. "Get some sleep Dim. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Night Sergeant."

"Night Dim."

* * *

Conclusion

* * *

Eddie was sitting at the kitchen table, coloring a picture in his large drawing pad, with crayons, pencils and Crayola felt tip markers that actually smelled like the color they were. Well, the colors didn't smell, but the purple one smelled like grape and the orange one smelled like oranges. He couldn't wait until his birthday when his mother would give him the art set with the paints, brushes, drawing and painting paper, and pastels. She had said he might get it for his birthday, but she wasn't very good at hiding things.

He still missed Frank an awful lot. He'd gotten scared when his mom told him Frank had gotten hurt and his mom had been scared when the Army man called and told her about it. He had been at school when Frank had called home today to talk to her. He said something had blown-up and some pieces of metal got stuck in his shoulder and the doctors had to take it out. Frank told her about the brave boy who had helped him. He was only a few years older then Eddie and he didn't have any family. He didn't even have a step-dad like Frank, and Eddie thought he must be very lonely.

He looked down at the picture he'd made; it was a picture of him and mommy at the water park they had gone to and he'd drawn all the rides and all the stuff they had seen there. He placed his chin down on the table and sighed. He wished Frank had been with them.

Suddenly, he had an idea. Setting the picture for Frank aside he carefully tore another piece of paper from the drawing pad, grabbed the colored pencils, and began to draw another picture.

This one was for a ten year old boy in Iraq, whose name, 'Dawud' was David, in Arabic.

Fine


End file.
